


Keep Safe

by mcmachine



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Detective Jackson, F/M, Medical Examiner April
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-04-16 23:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 89,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14175678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcmachine/pseuds/mcmachine
Summary: Detective Jackson Avery is a Dallas native, but still not entirely sure that he's cut out for his position as a homicide detective. Dr. April Kepner is the new Chief Medical Examiner, carrying a darker past with her than what she lets on.





	1. Chapter 1

_**JACKSON** _

My feet pounded against the synthetic pavement, long strides pushing me forward. The summer sun was brutal beating down against me and the few other runners that had made their way up to the track for a morning run.

I love living in a small town. Mostly, I love living outside of Dallas. As much as I loved the beat that I worked in and the people that I worked with, I needed a break from the bustle of the city. Southlake was only about twenty minutes away, expensive but about the only thing I'd really invested my trust fund in, and not much of a commute if I left early enough in the morning to avoid the traffic. Afternoons coming home were a different story, sure, but the moments of road rage are mostly worth it. The only other people here this morning are a bunch of high schoolers on the cross country team. Most of which can and do outrun me. It's a nice ego check. Most of the time.

Saturday was supposed to be my day off, but it doesn't surprise me that criminals don't respect that.

Halfway through my first mile, my phone buzzes with a call. Pulling it out of my armband, I slow down and catch my breath, seeing Chief Webber's name appearing on the screen. Not a call that I can ignore.

"What's up?" I answered the phone.

"We need you down here. Got two bodies down on West Mockingbird Lane, down by the storage facilities. Looks like the same guy who dropped the bodies down in Preston Hollow last month." Webber informed me gruffly. I paused, looking down at my watch. It's too early for this.

"Alright. Should be there in about twenty-five minutes." Good thing there's no traffic this early.

I'm not going to smell nice, but at least a crime scene is grotesque enough to take away from a haphazard appearance on my end. Jogging out to my car, I wipe away the sweat from my face and neck, putting my truck into gear and heading over. I'd have to shower and change at the station.

A nearly empty highway means that it's quick to get there, almost a straight line to get there. Webber had sent the exact address to my phone, but the cluster of police cars and other vehicles make it easy to spot.

Closing my car door, I dip into my truck to grab a pair of gloves and my badge, clipping it on top of my running shorts. Most people around here don't know me, except for Derek. Showing up in leggings and a college t-shirt that I'd pulled out of the backseat probably wasn't going to be particularly stellar for my reputation. I hadn't been a homicide detective for long. Someone had to die for me to get this position. Someone that had been a close mentor and ally to me when I had first joined the department twelve years ago. I'd majored in criminal justice with the expectation to be a lawyer, not a police officer, not a homicide detective. My mother and grandfather both hadn't been thrilled. I'm pretty sure they both still weren't, even with the recent promotion.

But I don't feel entirely ready to fill in his shoes. Mark had been everything to me, the closest thing that I'd had to a father. Now there's no turning back. The last thing that I wanted to do was disappoint him.

Swallowing the thoughts about him, I force myself over. Derek's easy to spot. He's tall and almost always overdressed for the situation when we're not in uniform. It's pretty much a running joke among everyone else. He was well aware of it.

"We were starting to wonder when you'd show." Shepherd offered up.

"I said twenty-five minutes. It's seven in the morning on a Saturday." I paused a moment, glancing down at my watch. "And it took me… twenty-six. Whatever." I shook my head.

"Don't worry about it, I'm just messing around." He brushed off quickly. "Two vics, looks like they were here together. We got an ID on the male – Victor Gonzalez, 43, a broker. Looks like he hired the female for a little company."

Taking the information, I snap on the gloves and step a little closer, lifting up the sheet that had been placed over the both of them for modesty. His assessment looked correct enough. It's a bloody mess, the work of a knife. Gunshot victims are common enough, as are gang-related deaths. This didn't look like it fell into either of those categories. Sighing heavily, I get out of the way for one of the CSIs, stepping back over toward Derek. Definitely reminded me of what we had seen in Preston Hollow.

"The medical examiner should be here any minute." He commented.

As if he was in sync with the examiner, the black van pulled up a few moments later. Straightening up, we both glance over. A small, red-haired woman got out of the driver's seat, appearing the rather annoyed with the male getting out of the passenger seat. I stare for a brief moment, unable to help myself. You don't see a lot of people in this business that look like her. Must have been the coroner's assistant.

I walk over to the pair of redheads walking toward the crime scene, extending a hand toward the male to introduce myself. "Detective Jackson Avery. You must be the medical examiner."

The woman cleared her throat, shooting a glare at the male.

"Uh, Dr. Owen Hunt. Assistant to the chief medical examiner." He introduced, shaking my hand.

"Dr. April Kepner," the woman chimed in, offering her my hand. "Chief Medical Examiner. Just moved here from Seattle."

Oh. I couldn't help but feel like an idiot for going off of the assumption, but I quickly take her hand. She had a firm shake. Good for her. She probably had to deal with a lot of idiot males in the field, for a moment, myself included. It was male dominant, even with attempts to diversify the departments. I'm sure the medical examiners had the same issue.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. Both of you." I offered. Derek stepped up, the both of them shaking hands and exchanging introductions as well. I don't miss the less than subtle way that he checked out April.

April didn't seem oblivious to it, either.

"Well, there's work to do." She cleared her throat, brushing past the both of us. We both instinctively turn around and watch her walk away for a moment, a little bit of a habit. But even I wasn't expecting the crude comment that came from Derek's lips a moment later.

"You think that she's a natural redhead? 'Cause I'd like to find out." Derek retorted.

"Dude, you're married," I shook my head, letting out a sigh. "You've got to knock it off with that kind of crap." Even if, well, I couldn't help but check her out too. She had a nice rear.

"Can't help it, that's just where my head goes." He replied.

I rolled my eyes at him. "C'mon, let her do her job without having to worry about you ogling her. Let's get back to the station and start from there."

We head back to the station in our own separate vehicles. The first thing I do is head to the locker room and get a quick shower, running the sweat and grime off of my body from the morning's workout. A spare set of clothes was kept in my locker for this purpose, among others, and I quickly redress in a pair of black pants and a blue button-down. When I get back out there, Derek had already begun setting up a bulletin board, pulling out some of the information and the autopsy report from the last victims that we had found.

As far as Dallas went, it wasn't the worst area of town. There were shady parts mingled in here and there, and I probably wouldn't have wanted to roam around the area at night. But this definitely wasn't like it was south Dallas. Anything on the north side was relatively clean, comparatively.

I grabbed the autopsy report from the last murders, glancing over at them. They're not the most brutal thing that I've ever seen but they hadn't had a quick death by any means.

"Did the M.E. call and give an estimated time of death on the most recent victims yet?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, I made sure she got my number, too." Derek beamed at me. "Killed between one and two in the morning."

"Dude, how do you know she's not married too?" I retorted with a shake of my head.

"No ring on the finger." He answered without missing a beat.

"You don't wear a ring at work." I pointed out. "Besides, she could still be in a relationship. I don't think you want to get off on a bad foot with the chief medical examiner, man. I definitely don't." I commented.

Derek raised his eyebrows, tossing his gum wrapper at my head. I react just in time to knock it away. "What, you trying to go for her?" He suggested with a chuckle. "'Bout time you went for someone around here, dude. Celibacy isn't going to treat you half as well as you think."

My eyes roll without even thinking about it. I wasn't celibate. Not by any means or standards, that'd been done with long ago in high school. It'd been awhile since I'd had anything more than a few cause dates, met up with a girl at a bar, nothing ever serious. I was pretty happy with where my life was. I liked my work. I liked helping people and making a direct difference in their life, trying to fight against the stereotypes that often went with police officers. I had a good group of friends that I hung around with, even if Derek could be somewhat of a dick sometimes. Most of the other guys that hung around the station were good people.

"No, man, not even close," I disagreed with a shake of my head. Sure, she was attractive enough. Clearly successful. But that just wasn't the first place that my mind went every time I saw a woman. "I just believe in this little thing called respecting a woman, you know? Maybe you've heard of it."

"Oh, shut up." He snorted out. "Let's just look at the case."

We pour over the details of the last case again, knowing that there won't be a lot of progress to make until we got the new coroner's report. That would probably take another day or two minimum, and there hadn't been a lot to go off of in the first place. More victims would mean more information, one way or another.

The day comes and goes without any major progress. A few ideas thrown around here and there, Webber checking in at one point to see if we'd come up with anything solid, telling us to keep working. Even if Derek could be a bit of an asshole, he was good at his job. He'd been a homicide detective years longer than I had, and there were things I could learn from him. Even if how to be a decent person wasn't one of them.

Eventually, there comes a point where there's nothing more that we can feasibly do without the autopsy report. After a long day of staring at dead bodies, though, sometimes the only thing that a person can do without going crazy and stop is getting a drink.

Or maybe that's just how alcoholics start. Either way, it's not uncommon to hit up a bar relatively close to the station and find other officers there. Part of it's a social thing. It's kind of just the way that it was, though.

Parking in one of the few remaining slots, it doesn't surprise me that it's this crowded on a Saturday night, even if it's not terribly late yet.

"Hey, Joe," I greeted as I walked up to the counter, offering him a smile. The bartender was a significant part of everyone's life, it seemed like. Everyone had a story involving him, even if not everyone was quite as willing to tell with the embarrassment that came along with some of them. "Just give me whatever you've got on tap tonight."

He served me and I set down the cash and tip, offering him a smile before moving over to sit down at one of the tables. It's not too loud here, decent rock music from the 80s playing. All in all, not a bad place to spend a Saturday night, even on my own.

Sipping at my beer, I lean back in the chair and look around. Nothing particularly surprising, just the usuals – people gathered around, getting a little rowdy over the sports game playing on the televisions. I'd never been as big of a fan as basketball as I was football, only keeping up with March Madness by word of the brackets of everyone around me. To me, there's more entertainment in watching them all go at each other than there was the actual game.

Bouncing red curls catch my attention for a moment, the same shade of auburn that I had seen earlier today at the crime scene. Not who I had expected to see here, certainly.

Kepner was seated at the bar by herself, nursing a glass of red wine. She was wearing dark jeans and a beige sweater, black bralette peaking out. I watched her for a moment to see if anyone else was going to join her, half expecting to see Hunt coming in any moment. People had a habit of sticking with those they knew more than anyone else. Cops were almost always hanging around with their partners. I was probably one of the less common exceptions for that.

I don't want to stare at her like a creep, though. Turning into Shepherd wasn't a part of the plan. I pull out my phone for a moment, scrolling through some of the most recent news articles. There was always some kind of ridiculous headline to grab attention.

The next time that I look up from my phone and glance around, most things hadn't changed, but Kepner was no longer on her own at the counter. Instead, another officer had joined her. I recognized him right off the bat, Sergeant Taylor. A bland guy, not a bad one, just not good company by any means. He did happen to hit on anyone and anything that would give him the time of day, so it didn't surprise e that he'd pinned her down as soon as the opportunity came around.

Based on her face, though, she wasn't particularly thrilled with the position that she was in. She had given off the impression of a woman more than capable of taking care of and asserting herself at the crime scene, but at the moment, she looked more like a deer caught in headlights than the same bossy medical examiner that had shut Hunt and his ego down in two seconds flat. No point in leaving her hanging out to dry.

Getting up and pocketing my phone, it only takes a few seconds for me to get over there. There were a few different ways that I could have gone around it, but I decided to go for a less than subtle approach to get him to knock it off. With a broad smile on my face, I sling my arm around April's shoulder, facing toward Taylor.

"Hey, April. Sorry, I'm late. Got a little caught up at the station." I throw out casually.

"Oh– hey, hi, hey." She stuttered out.

"Oh," Taylor said shortly, blinking at the pair of us. "Sorry, I didn't realize that you were waiting for someone. Uh, nice to see you again, Detective Avery." He gave a smile that was clearly forced, no doubt uncomfortable that this wasn't going where he thought it would.

I offer a smile back at him that's just as fake. "No big deal."

"Sorry, I uh, I should have said something sooner." April piped in for his benefit, clearing her throat. "Hi, Jackson, it's nice to see you again," she leaned into me a little more, no doubt putting on a show for him.

"I guess I'll just leave you two be. See you around." Taylor didn't hesitate to get out of there before it could become any more awkward between the three of us, scampering away with his tail between his legs.

Once he was out of sight and no longer paying attention to the two of us, I retrieve my arm and step back a little to put a more appropriate amount of distance between the two of us, not wanting to seem overbearing.

"Thank you for that," April said with a shy smile.

"Don't worry about it," I brushed off quickly. "Taylor's got a bit of a reputation around here, didn't want you to have to find out about it the wrong way. You seem pretty serious about your work so I thought that I'd spare you the trouble." I explained. "Hope it's okay I slung my arm over you like that. I thought it'd be the best way to get him out of your hair."

"I appreciate that. Can I buy you a drink as thanks?" She suggested, both of her eyebrows raising up into her forehead hopefully.

Normally I don't let women buy me drinks – it's an ego thing, mostly. Maybe a little painfully masculine and a smidgen chauvinistic, but I had been raised as a gentleman. I still believed in paying for the woman on her date and holding doors open. I was for gender equality all the same, and treating women well was certainly a part of that.

"Sure," I smiled.

I let her wave over Joe and order me another beer and another glass of wine for herself, sitting down on the stool next to hers. I faced toward her slightly to give her my full attention, thanking her properly once the bartender had brought over us both another set of drinks.

"So, you said earlier that you were from Seattle, right?" I asked politely.

"Yeah. I've bounced around a little bit, but I was in Seattle for awhile. When the chief position here opened up, I had to take to jump and take it." April explained. "Definitely a lot more sunshine here," she chuckled.

"Oh yeah, you might want to invest in some sunscreen." I grinned. She was definitely pale. That probably wasn't going to last for long. "Seemed like there was some tension earlier between you and Dr. Hunt, right? I take it that he applied for the same position that you did?"

April took a deep breath and picked up her glad son wine, sipping it and nodding her head. "Yeah, I don't think he's pleased that they brought in an outsider for the position. He wanted it."

"Sorry to hear about that," I offered up empathetically. "I'm sure that he'll get over it soon."

Both of her shoulders lifted up in a shrug. "Doesn't matter, I'm still his boss."

"That's a good attitude to have." I raised my glass toward her, waiting for her to the same. "To you, and to being boss." She smiled at me, echoing the sentiment.

"How long have you been here?" April asked me.

"I uh, grew up in the area, actually," I answered with a single shoulder shrug, taking a sip of my beer. "I live out in Southlake now, but I've always been in the Dallas area. Makes knowing my beat really easy, for sure. You do get used to all the sunshine, eventually." I threw in for good measure.

"Good to know," she chuckled. "Any suggestions for a first timer?"

"Depends on what you like. As far as food… there's pretty much good everything. If you like burgers, can't go wrong with the original Snuffers. They've got some really good cheese fries, too. Torchy's is good for some sit-down tacos, but honestly, there are cheap little taco trucks that'll beat it out every day of the week if you know where to look. If you like entertainment, House of Blues. The American Airline Center is a good venue, too. Museums… the JFK one is kind of a bust, about five minutes of facts and then just conspiracy theories. I'd go with the Perot."

I knew my city pretty well, I'd taken the time to explore it both as a child and adult. My mom had always wanted me to be well cultured and insisted on taking me to all of the museums around as a child, and I'd learned pretty quickly what I did and didn't like. April seemed to be taking my considerations pretty seriously, nodding slightly.

"I guess you really have lived here your whole life," she chuckled. "Thank you. I do love a good taco truck so you'll have to tell me where all of the good ones are."

"I can do that, no problem," I chuckled.

We sit there and talk back and forth for awhile, discussing some of the different quirks about Dallas compared to the other places that she had lived. Apparently, before Seattle, she'd lived in Chicago and a small town that no one had ever heard of before then. She didn't talk about herself a lot, or at least not in great detail. Shy, it seemed like, even if she was confident about her work.

There was something a little endearing about the charm in her shyness, though. The way that she blushed and bit down on her lower lip, turning to her glass of wine whenever she got a little sheepish over the question. She was a sweet girl, certainly. She made that much clear.

"Wow… it's getting late," April finally commented when she glanced down at her phone.

"Why don't I walk you out to your car?" I suggested politely. She nodded in agreement and gathered her purse. I held open the door of the bar for her and trailed next to her out to her car, a little amused to find that she was actually the car next to mine. Right under a lamp pole, that was no doubt intentional. I was sure that she had seen just as many grotesque and gory things in her work that I had.

"Thank you, for tonight," she said, stopping by her trunk and turning to face me. "I kind of thought that I was going to just drink and sit alone at a bar all night. You really made a difference." There's a sparkle of something in her eyes, something that I can't quite place my finger on.

"Of course. It was my pleasure," I quickly said, shaking off her apologies. "You're good company, Kepner. And uh, this is my truck, anyways." I said, clapping the bed of it.

April glanced, letting out a slight laugh. "I guess you really are Texan." She teased. "And you can call me April," she added.

"Guilty as charged." I threw up one hand in mock defense. "Have a good rest of your night, April. And let me know if you ever need anything around the city."

"Thanks," she smiled once more, before adding on an afterthought. "Oh! You should have the autopsy report on your desk by Monday morning. I had Hunt stay and run a few more tests. But… Monday morning. I'll make sure that it gets there." She smiled at me once more before moving to the driver's seat of the car, pausing and glancing back at me with a smile, then getting in.

I follow suit and get int he front seat of my own truck, waiting until she had backed out of her parking spot and drove away. I turn on my radio to a low volume, mostly wanting some background noise. Two beers and I'm pretty much just as sober as I had been walking in after long conversation. But it had been a good conversation.

Maybe homicide wasn't going to be all bad.


	2. Chapter 2

_**APRIL** _

I don't know how I feel about being in Dallas.

On the one hand, the sunshine is great. The weather is wonderful and I haven't been to a restaurant yet that I haven't enjoyed. It wasn't as expensive as some of the other cities that I had lived in, either. But on the other hand, there's a dark history there, looming over. Something that I couldn't ignore however much I wanted to. But I was putting my career first. Before history, before everything lingering in my past. This had to be a step in the right direction. It had to be.

There were worse first autopsies to have, certainly. The smell that comes along with it was something that I had gotten over long ago. I'm not sure if I'm a fan of my assistant, but he did his job well enough. Probably another reason he was mad that I had this job and he didn't.

But it didn't seem like all of the people that I had to work with was going to be quite as difficult. Even if Detective Shepherd seemed like he was going to be a little much to handle on the wrong (or right) day of the week, Detective Avery – Jackson, he seemed nice. More than nice, actually. I'd be lying to myself if I said that I hadn't thoroughly enjoyed spending time with him on Saturday night.

The rest of the weekend came and went in a blur. I'm still unpacking my apartment – it's a high rise, just me and my cat, Essie. She's stretched out by the window in the sunlight, where she'll probably stay until it was no longer the ideal spot to soak in the warmth.

"Good morning, stinker," I greet her affectionately as I rolled myself out of bed, giving her a quick scratch on the head before going to make coffee. It was the start of a new week and even if my job wasn't exactly the typical nine to five workweek that most people might have daydreamed about, I tried to put some kind of normalcy into my schedule when it was allowed. I have my coffee and cereal, skim through the paper, and do my hair. I try to be a little bit normal. A bit of extra effort is put into my appearance on this particular morning, though. I planned on hand delivery the autopsy report to Detective Avery this morning instead of sending someone else to do it.

Morning traffic is a nightmare in Dallas just like it is every other city. The only notable difference was the fact that it seemed like it was truck after truck surrounding me, making my little Honda feel incompetent when it came to weaseling in and out of traffic. Everything was bigger in Texas, apparently. Or maybe the men just had more to compensate for.

It's already done from Owen's work from the day past, and I review it once more before signing off on it officially. Officially cause of death, exsanguination for both of the victims. They had each bled out and lost over half of their total blood volume within minutes of the stabbings considering how fatal the blows had been. I couldn't say whether or not the victims were targeted, that was up to the detectives, but the killer had certainly known how to get the job done. The first wounds had been the most fatal and the rest were overkill.

It reminds me of someone I rather not think about. Just a coincidence, I had to remind myself.

The flight of stairs up to the bullpen where the homicide detectives was a short one, and I'm pleased to see that Detective Avery, as well as Detective Shepherd, were both already there. I smile to myself for a moment. He looks more put together today than the first time I saw him, that's for sure. Basketball shorts traded for dark pants and a white button-down that fit him well.

"Morning, detectives," I greeted the both of them and handed over the report to Jackson. "Here are the reports for both of your victims. We're still looking for a name on the Jane Doe and running her dentals in the system, but so far, it doesn't look like anything is coming up." I informed them.

"Thank you, Dr. Kepner," Jackson replied formally.

"April," I don't mind correcting him. After spending Saturday night with him, it felt a little more natural to be on a first name basis with him. Even if I'm still not entirely sold on his partner just yet.

"How are you settling in, April?" Detective Shepherd interrupted, breaking the eye contact that the two of us I had made. He apparently didn't have any qualms about diving right in with me. But he had made that pretty clear from day one with the way that he laid it on thick.

I looked at him with a smile. "Very well, thank you for asking."

"Anything abnormal that we should know about the autopsies?" Jackson asked, interrupting before anything awkward could occur between the two of us. He flipped open the file and began looking through it, handing the other one off to his partner.

"Uh, no, not in particular," I answered with a quick shake of my head. "Mr. Gonzalez had a bit to drink that night but he wasn't above the legal limit. Same with our Jane Doe. I'm guessing the two of them met at a bar before they went off for their… extracurricular activities. Both of them died from blood loss. It's overkill, though. The first stab wound on each of them would have been enough to kill them but he decided to keep going instead." I elaborated on quickly, letting myself get caught up enough in the details of the case to ramble slightly.

"He? Do you have proof it's a male?" Shepherd questioned me.

I shook my head. "Uh, no, not technically. But this kind of overkill, the rage and the level of violence, it's pretty consistent with males. I'd be more than shocked if it was a female who did it but technically, the killer didn't leave behind any fibers on the scene or on either of them."

"Thanks for bringing this by," Avery said as he shut the folder and looked up at me. "You want any coffee or anything while you're up here?" He asked.

"Oh, no, I already had my one and done for the morning," I answered but kept a smile on my face. "But thanks. Uh, let me know if you guys need anything else from the bodies." I switched gears, glancing between the both of them for a moment. Then my gaze goes right back to Jackson again. "But uh, maybe later you can show me one of those taco trucks you were talking about Saturday night?" I suggested hopefully with a raise of my eyebrows.

"Yeah, that'd be good," he answered, grinning back at me for a moment.

The moment of smiles between the two of us is ruined by Shepherd clearing his throat, glancing back and forth. "Anyways, we should probably get back to the case." He said, jabbing Jackson with his elbow.

"Of course!" I chirped quickly, stepping back. "Uh, you know where to find me…" I trailed off awkwardly, turning around on my heel to scamper away. I don't miss out on overhearing a bit of conversation between the two of them, mostly, Derek throwing out the assumption that the two of us had already slept together and Jackson denying it quickly. I'm not quite sure why he's so fast to deny it, but I don't want to linger on it. Nothing had happened, after all. He could be gay, for all I knew.

But I still smile to myself as I head back downstairs, a little amused by just the possibility. Jackson was handsome and seemed like a good guy. Obviously, his profession spoke to the kind of character that he had. And he had gone out of his way to be polite with me. All of those things were pretty good signs.

Being new meant that there was enough paperwork and other forms of busy work to catch up on, easily filling the gaps between having to actually deal with handling corpses. Organization was apparently more important to me than it was the previous chief medical examiner.

Lunchtime comes and goes, and I wait. I thought that maybe he would come down to get me so a little after one o'clock, I popped back upstairs to see if he was there. And he wasn't. Apparently, he and Detective Shepherd had gone out chasing a lead. Disappointed with the news but settling, I go down the block and grab a sandwich from Subway. This was likely the kind of thing to be expected. With homicide, there were all kinds of chaos running around.

The rest of the day comes and goes without much of a fuss. Not every day was chaos.

Of course, being a city like Dallas, there's usually something to do. Not every death required an autopsy, but there were plenty of suspicious ones. Spending days with dead bodies probably wasn't most people's idea of a good day, but I'd always liked to solve puzzles. To me, that's what the body was. A mystery waiting to be solved. I'd gotten pretty good at piecing together the clues over the years.

Things get a little easier when it comes to dealing with Owen, but I'd already decided that Jackson was going to be my favorite coworker. There were some things that you just picked up on quickly. I don't see him again until Wednesday evening when he stops down in my lab, and I can't help but light up with a smile.

"Hey, April," he greeted.

"Detective Avery." I chirped out in surprise. "Did you need something?"

"No, no," he shook his head. "I just wanted to apologize for bailing on you the other day. Derek and I got up chasing a lead that ended up being nothing." He elaborated.

I shook my head quickly. "You don't need to apologize for doing your job."

"Well, I'd like to make it up to you regardless. Let me take you to dinner." Jackson offered.

"Are you sure?" I stuttered out unintentionally. "I mean, I'd love you. To! I'd love to. Sorry. It's been a long day. But you don't have to do that, though. I mean, it's not a big deal. Not at all." Already tripping over my words was not a good sign for any of this.

"How about Saturday night again, barring any work interruptions?" He suggested, a smile pulling at his expression. The amusement was clear in his face even if he didn't actually laugh at my expense.

"That sounds great," I answered with a smile, trying to ignore that my cheeks were burning with blush.

Jackson pulled out his phone and handed it to me. "Why don't you put your number in and I'll text you in the next day or two about the details?" He offered.

I typed in my number quickly, handing it back to them. "That sounds good."

"And I'll send you a text right now so you have my number," he murmured. A moment later my phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket, his number and a smiling emoji with its tongue sticking out appearing on my lock screen.

"Got it." I turned it toward him so that he could see for himself, pocketing the device once more. "I guess it's a date."

The words come out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I swore my heart stopping beating for a moment out of sheer embarrassment. It didn't have to be that at all. Coworkers hung out and got to know each other all the time, he thought that I was new to the city and it could be nothing more than sheer politeness. If any guy had made that assumption about me, I probably would have flipped a table.

"I guess so," Jackson replied back smoothly, giving me a charming smile.

_Oh, thank God._

"Are you heading out for the night?" He asked after a moment, and I gave a quick nod of the head. "Why don't you let me walk you to your car?"

"Sure, give me just a second." I turn my back on him as I turned off my computer and grabbed my things, pulling my car keys out of my purse and lifting it up onto my shoulder. It didn't take me more than a minute to straighten things up. "Alright, I'm ready to go."

Jackson offered me his arm and I took it, hooking elbows with him. He's quite a bit taller than me but it doesn't make too much of a difference. I can't help but take notice of just how muscular he was, the circumference of his upper arm had to be twice that of my own. We talking a comfortable silence out to my car, and I don't mind. He had a kind of solidifying presence that was nice to be around. It must have worked wonders with scared citizens under the right (or wrong) circumstances. When we reach my car, I turn and pull away to face him. 

"You seem like a really nice guy," I commented honestly.

"So why do you say that like it's a bad thing?" He questioned without missing a beat.

"I'm not– it's not," I backtracked quickly with a shake of my head. "Some of the guys that I worked with in Seattle were… kind of dicks, if I'm being honest. And sexist. You're not like that at all. It's kind of a breath of fresh air, actually." I smiled up at him.

To my surprise, he bent down and pressed a chaste kiss on my cheek. "I haven't been a homicide detective for very long. I guess I just haven't become jaded yet," he brushed off.

"I hope you don't," I murmured sincerely, looking up at him for a long moment.

"Me too."

When I go home that night, there's a lightness in my heart that I haven't felt in a long time. Essie greets me meowing at the door the second that I come in, and once I've set down my purse and keys, I feed her dinner. Instead of getting up for the pasta salad in my fridge though, I squat down, stroking her fur. She's a little bit of an old lady – I'd rescued her in medical school and didn't know her exact age, but that'd been years ago. She had become the constant in my life from place to place, my best company.

I didn't consider myself a crazy cat lady. I only had her, after all. But I did use her as an excuse for being a little antisocial. She's a good companion. Listened better than anyone else I had ever been around. That's something that I don't tell anyone, though.

Another constant in my life since medical school was the fact that I hadn't actually had a boyfriend or relationship in general since then. I'd had a boyfriend of nearly two years in the middle of it and once he'd found about where I really came from, he'd said hurtful things that still haunted me. I was a freak. Crazy. It'd put me off from pursuing anything after that. It had been so easy to shut my heart down.

Despite every better instinct in my body, I could feel my heart warming up again. I touched my cheek for a moment, feeling where he had kissed me once more, and let out a sigh.

"I think I really like him, Essie." I scratched behind her ears.

She meowed loudly back at me.

"Bad idea? Yeah, I know."

Sighing, I eat dinner and take a long shower before retiring to another episode of _Mindhunter_. It was just my latest binge. The rest of the week flies by with activity, much to my chagrin.

Friday afternoon was when I finally got the text for arranging our date – or maybe not date? – night plans. I'm still not entirely sure whether or not he was on board for that, but he'd stuck to his word and hadn't bailed on me yet. That was a sign of things going in the right direction, even if I was scared to get my hopes up.

Jackson sent me an address, a time, and another smiling emoji. I google the address as soon as I get the chance to sit down at a computer. It was some place called The Porch. It was advertised as a happening gastropub, and honestly, I'm not entirely sure what it meant. But the reviews raved about it. A little pricey, but not enough to make me turn my nose up at the place.

By the time that I wake up on Saturday morning, though, I'm completely pumped. I do my grocery shopping and clean up my apartment a bit, and I take another long shower, shaving and exfoliating my skin, lathering up in lotion until I'm impossibly soft. I curl my hair in long, loose ringlets and put on a natural face of makeup. I didn't want to be over the top and it said the place was a casual atmosphere – so nude eyeshadows and lipsticks was the way to go.

Once I had put on a pair of dark wash jeans and a black, ruffled, off the shoulder top, I begin to short drive over, leaving out Essie's dinner for her early. I didn't want to be late. I'd always been fussy about being on time.

I park and wait, trying to see if I could recognize his truck. A black Dodge Ram, unfortunately, wasn't as specific of a descriptor as it might have been in Chicago. It seemed like at least half of the population of the city of Dallas had decided that they wanted a big, black truck.

About five minutes before the time that we had arranged to meet, I finally get out of my car and walk up to the entrance of the restaurant. To my pleasure, Jackson was already standing outside and waiting for me. We both lit up with a smile nearly at the exact same time as we made eye contact with each other and I pick up my pace a little bit to go greet him. When I'm the right distance away, he bent down and greeted me with another kiss on the lips.

"Hey, you look great," Jackson complimented me right off the bat.

"Thank you, so do you," I returned it without hesitation. He did look sharp, a black, short sleeve button down and pants to match. Nothing necessary spectacular about it but it fit him incredibly well. It put his muscles on display at the same time, too. I never thought that I'd be the type of girl to fawn over a guy's muscles, but here I was, ready to drool.

We're seated without having to wait much to my surprise. It's a bit busy but not impossibly crowded, the waitress coming over to take our drink orders quickly. We each go for a cocktail – he chose the Old Cuban Mojito, and I go for the Strawberry Crush. I almost always went for anything with strawberry. He went ahead and ordered the two of us an appetizer, spinach and parmesan dip. I'd be lying to myself if I tried to say it didn't sound delicious.

"So I take it that you've been here before?" I prompted curiously, raising my eyebrows.

"Yeah," he gave a nod of his head. "A few times with my mom, actually. She really likes this place."

"That's sweet," I smiled. "Are you close with her?"

"Very," Jackson answered. "Growing up it was just me and her. I didn't have any siblings and my dad ditched when I was young, I barely remember him. She's a big-time lawyer, a prosecutor, actually. She lives in the city too. So we were always pretty close growing up." He elaborated while I listened and nodded. "What about you? Are you close with any of your family?"

It was a loaded question, even if he didn't know it. I shook my head. "Uh, not really, no. I was always the weird one in my family. Three sisters, both parents, still never managed to fit in. I… get Christmas cards from them, usually. But we don't talk a lot." I shrug it off, dropping my gaze for a moment. I don't want to make a big deal about it and I certainly don't want to get emotional. The waitress interrupted for a moment, dropping off our drinks and water. I pick mine up quickly and take a sip.

"There's nothing wrong with being a black sheep." Jackson said quickly, no doubt trying to offer up some sympathy. "Everyone else in my family is some big, hot shot lawyer. They all thought I was crazy when I enrolled in the police academy instead of law school."

"Really?" I questioned. "I mean, you're still taking a part of the law process. A more direct one, kind of. You're on the front lines, putting your life at risk every day… that's a big deal."

"That's what I think," he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "I like what I do. I know that I like it a lot more than I would sitting around an office."

"That's good," I smiled. "I love my job, too. I know that it's kind of weird and people usually think that I'm a freak for it. But I like what I do. I think it's important and it's like a puzzle. Except instead of one thousand or ten thousand tiny plastic pieces, you have the human body." I rambled on easily.

Jackson smiled right back at me. "Well, I couldn't do my job if you didn't do yours. So I think that means that I have to agree with you," he laughed.

"I guess," I chuckled right back at him. "You can think that I'm weird, though. Most people do."

"Nah, you're too cute to be weird." He disagreed. "I mean, look at you. You must have been the most popular girl at your high school." He waved his hand as he spoke.

I snorted. Loudly. "Not even close. Try… braces. Glasses. Pigeon toes. I was one of the untouchables."

"Really?" He grinned, showing his teeth completely. "I would have never guessed. Honestly. You're a gorgeous woman, Dr. Kepner. I'm surprised that someone hasn't already come in and put a ring on your finger."

I shook my head, but I was smiling, unable to help myself. "April." I corrected. "What about you?"

"Ah, you're going to hate me. Football team. Prom king. I had… money and people knew it, so, it was kind of hard to tell sometimes who really wanted to be my friend and who just wanted to be associated with me," Jackson admitted with an honest shrug. We couldn't have been more different. That was for the best.

"I'm sorry about that." I said earnestly.

The waitress interrupted once more, placing down the appetizer in front of us. We each ordered our meals. I decided on the short rib stroganoff and he went for the chicken fried steak.

Chattering on and off throughout the course of the meal was easier than I expected. I've always been a little closed off from people, especially since I was a teenager, but something about the charisma that he radiated made me want to talk to him. It felt silly, girlish, to be enamored by him so easily. And yet I was. All of those defenses that I had pieced up over the years were beginning to crack down.

By the time that we had ordered a slice of butter cake to split and finished it off eagerly, I don't want to go. I'd forgotten how nice it was to just be in another person's company and chatter without having to worry about everything else going on. It was uplifting.

We paused outside of my car, and I wondered for a moment if he wanted to continue the evening just as much as I did. I haven't taken anyone home with me in a longtime. It's not a sexual thing, even if it had been a long time since I had even begun to think about something like that. It was something than ran much deeper than just that. Trying to tell myself otherwise was a waste of time.

"I had a really good time tonight, Jackson." I commented, looking up at him with a smile.

Jackson reached to cup my cheek for a moment, holding it, and I couldn't help but beam. After a moment of the simple, intimate gesture, he leaned down and pressed a warm kiss against my mouth. I leaned into it naturally, breathing him in, letting my lips part for him. I missed people so much more than I realized. Isolation hadn't done me any favors. Maybe he really could bring me back out of my shell again.

"So did I," he echoed the sentiment when he finally pulled away, grinning down at me.

"I'll see you at work on Monday." I said with a raise of my eyebrows.

"Yes, yes you will."


	3. Chapter 3

**_ JACKSON _ **

"You didn't answer my call on Saturday, young man."

I chuckled into the receiver of my phone, barely shaking my head. "I know, mom. I'm sorry."

"So are you going to tell me what is more riveting than answering your mother's call?" My mother sassed me through the other end. I scratch the back of my head for a moment and pick up a pack of cashews and a Gatorade, phone balanced between my ear and my shoulder as I approached the gas station cashier to quickly pay.

"On a Saturday night? Are you sure you want me to answer that question?" I retorted.

"Don't you get sassy with me now, young man." I can practically see the expression on her face, even through the phone. I thanked the cashier with a nod of my head, walking out of the gas station and pausing outside. No point in letting my partner in on the conversations between me and my mother. Especially if it was going to go down this route.

"I was on a date, actually," I answered honestly, pocketing the cashews and twisting open the blue Gatorade, swallowing a mouthful as she spoke on the other end of the phone.

"A date?" Catherine paused. "Are you going to tell me anything about this lovely vixen that you've already chosen over your mother, or are you just going to leave me wondering who I'm going to lose my son to?"

"Mom, have I told you recently that you need to relax?" I leaned against the wall, propping up a foot.

Catherine laughed on the other end. "I'm sure that you have. Now come on, baby boy. Tell me about this girl who's managed to start warming up that heart of yours. You can't just leave me hanging here."

"Alright…" I sighed, setting my Gatorade down for a moment and running a hand over my face. There was no getting around it, and I did love my mom, even if she could be a pain occasionally. "She's the new medical examiner here, actually. Chief medical examiner. She just moved here from Seattle and… she's really nice. Funny. I've only known her for about a week but there's just… I don't know. Something about her that I can't really name yet. I offered to show her around the city a little." I rambled about her a little more than I expected myself to, smiling. Maybe I couldn't name exactly what it was about her, but there was a connection there. One that didn't need to be explained as long as it couldn't be felt, as far as I was concerned.

"Mm, interesting." Probably the closest thing that I was going to get to her approval right off the bat. Good enough for me. "Now, are you going to tell me her name?"

"April Kepner. Dr. April Kepner." Hopefully giving a name wouldn't be too much of a regret.

"Kepner?" Catherine questioned my words quickly, much to my surprise. "Did you just say, April Kepner?"

I paused for a moment. Why would the name mean anything to her? "Yeah, April Kepner."

"Oh, no. No no no. Jackson Avery, you listen to me, young man. You're going to stay away from that girl and her family, okay? The Kepner family is nothing but trouble and that is not something that any of us need to be associated with. You stay far away from her. I'm going to make some calls and see if I can get her reassigned somewhere. The last thing that she needs to be is back in Dallas." Catherine very quickly made her point known.

Except the more that she had to say about April, the more confused that I was left. There was no reason for her to know – April said that she'd only been here for a few weeks and I doubt that was any time to make quite an impression like that on my mother. If she'd known her, too, surely she would have said something about it. I paused for a moment, at a complete loss for words at the quick turn around that my mother had presented.

"Mom, she's only been in town for a couple of weeks. I'm sure that you have her confused with someone else." I countered with a furrow of my brows, momentarily wishing that this was a conversation that we were having in person so it would have been easier to prove her wrong.

"I am making no mistake, Jackson," Catherine said firmly on the other end of the phone. "You need to stay away from that girl. She's going to bring nothing but trouble for your life and I don't even want to begin to know why she's decided to set her eyes on you with the history that her family has, but I don't want you having to find out about it, either. Stay away from her." She instructed me firmly. Not a chance I'd listen, even if I could. We still worked together before anything else, and that wasn't going to change any time soon.

"How do you think you know her? She's never lived in Dallas before and you've been here since I was born. I guarantee she's not any older than I am." I continued to explain my point of view. "Whatever you think you know about her, you don't. I mean, I barely know her."

"Exactly. You barely know her." She took my words and used them against me immediately.

"Well, I'm sure that I know her better than you think you do. Listen, I don't want to fight with you right now, alright? How about I come over for dinner later this week?" I suggested, trying to find some kind of middle ground for the two of us.

I could hear her sigh loudly. "Fine. Thursday? We'll talk about this more then." She said.

"Thursday. I'll come over. Just don't go making any calls about her or anything else, okay? That's unnecessary." I pleaded with her, hoping that at least this time she'd give me a little trust and leeway before she went lunging into actions that would be a lot harder to backtrack.

"Whatever makes you happy," she commented, even though the tone of her voice made it hard to believe. "I'll see you on Thursday."

"See you then."

Sighing to myself, I hang up the phone and drop it into my pocket, picking up my Gatorade and walking back over to our squad car. Derek was still inside for a moment and I slid into the passenger seat, leaning my head back against it.

My mother meddling in my life was nothing new. She'd been trying to do it for as long as I had been able to come to my own independent thoughts and conclusions, especially when the didn't align with hers. She'd done it throughout college and when I had enrolled into the police academy instead of applying for law schools. That hadn't changed. I knew that she meant well with everything that she was trying to do, but that didn't mean that I had to like it. It was still my life.

But even so, she'd never been much of a liar. There wasn't an instant in my life that I could recall off the top of my head in which she had directly lied to my face about something that was going on. Occluded the truth from me on occasion, sure, but she'd never been blatant enough to try and direct me away from the truth.

The idea that she would start here and now with someone that she didn't know make any sense. None of it made any sense, though. For once in my life, I'm grateful when Shepherd gets back into the car and begins blabbering on about something that his wife had done the night before. I'm not listening, but at least the noise is somewhat of a distraction while we're supposed to be following a suspect. Gas station stops were normal here and there.

Pulling out my phone, I pull up Facebook. Sometimes we used it for stalking down suspects but in this instance, someone else is on my mind. I logged out of the anonymous profile that I used and on my own, searching up April after a moment.

It didn't take long to find her profile. The red hair and gorgeous smile that she always wore stick out. I open up her profile quickly, sending a friend request before beginning to scroll through what information was readily available. Her privacy settings were pretty tight so there wasn't a ton to see, mostly just her history of profile pictures. Pretty much the only thing I gathered from it was that she's not a natural redhead – some pictures from her twenties in what looked like medical school, frizzy brown hair and shying away behind glasses with a group of people. Not exactly telling of whatever my mom had been trying to hint at.

"Hah! So you do have a thing for the M.E." Shepherd interrupted my current train of thought when he leaned over and looked at my phone screen before I could stop him.

"No, dude, it's Facebook." I leaned away from him quickly, locking and dropping my phone on my lap so he couldn't see anything else. "C'mon. You can have a female friend without wanting to sleep with them, you know. I know you're not familiar with that concept. Doesn't it drive Meredith crazy?" I turned the conversation right back around on him without hesitation, sighing.

"Talk is talk. I'm not doing anything. Are you gonna sleep with her?" He asked as he began to drive.

I shook my head, looking at the window for a moment. "I'm just getting to know her. It doesn't hurt to be friends with the people we work with, you know? Most people consider it to be a good thing. Besides, she's new to the city. She could use a friend or two to help her adjust. She's here on her own." I explained my interest as innocently as possible.

"Sounds like you'll be showing her around more than just the city," Derek commented. "How do you know so much about her already, anyway? Sure was a quick turn around."

"We had dinner the other night," I confessed with a shrug.

"Just dinner?" He questioned.

"Just dinner."

I'm relieved when the radio goes off with a call that pulled us away from the conversation at hand and back that the work that we needed to do, letting go of the breath that I had been holding onto. I wasn't embarrassed about any of it, not really, even if I didn't particularly want him harassing me over the subject of personal matters. I didn't mind hearing about him and Meredith, but I liked to keep the details of my own life to myself as much as possible.

But I'd be lying if I said that my mom's words hadn't gotten inside of my head. She'd always been good at that, making me doubt what I was doing, even if I usually came out on the other side of the decision with my mind unchanged. Hopefully, this would just be another one of those circumstances and nothing more than that.

It's impossible to stop thinking about what my mom had said to me about April. I nearly bring it up with her the next time I see her on Wednesday, but I hold off. One more day. I can give it one more day and see what my mom had to say before I approach her about it. It could be nothing and I didn't want to risk making things awkward between the two of us – not when they were going so good. I didn't want to ruin lunch with her, even if it was just eating tacos from a taco truck and laughing at the mess that each one of us made. Sometimes it was the simple things.

If I had any luck in the world, then my mom would see that she made me happy. By the time that Thursday rolled around, I was both looking forward to what she had to say and dreading it at the same time. That seemed to be a pretty combination when it came to all things regarding my mother.

I bring a bottle of red wine with the hopes that it might lighten her mood somewhat, but she sees through it the moment that I open the door and hold it up with a smile.

"I see you're trying to appease me," she commented with a raise of her eyebrows as I stepped into her house, taking the bottle from me and peering at the label for a moment.

"It's nice to see you too, Mom." I greeted her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

It's not the first subject that I broach with her even if it lingered on my mind, wanting to at least be able to sit down of a meal without bringing up an argument between the two of us. I'm not sure how long it was actually going to last, but it seemed like it would at least be worth trying to put in the effort.

But I don't put it off for long. I want to know what she had been talking about on the phone perhaps even more than she wanted to tell me.

"What was the deal on the phone?" I asked about halfway through the meal, setting my fork down so I can fold my hands and lean forward slightly. "I mean, there's no way that you could know April, Mom. She really just got into town. You must have her confused with someone else."

"Oh, I'm absolutely certain I know _exactly_ who she is." Catherine challenged me with a raise of her eyebrows. "Let me guess, a cute, scrappy little thing who didn't tell you much about her family?"

Part of that was true. I sighed. "She said that they weren't close."

"You stay here for just a moment." She said.

I watched as she got up and placed her napkin down, walking off for a moment to I assumed must have been her office. I shook my head for a moment and took another mouthful of the beef stroganoff that she'd made, downing it with red wine a moment later. The little description that she had offered up didn't mean much. We were still on relatively new terms with each other, and I hadn't given her major details about my family. There were plenty of reasons that were normal enough to not want to talk about where or who you came from. It was easy to just dismiss as that.

My mom returned a moment later with a file in her hand and she set it down on the table next to my plate, placing a hand on her hip and continuing to stand there. "Go ahead. Open it up and see who she really is."

I stared at her curiously for a moment before looking down at the file, pushing my plate aside for a moment and pulling it closer. In a way, I felt like I was violating April's privacy. If there was something dark looming in her past, then it should have been her right to tell me about it. It shouldn't have been about my mom sinking her claws in and determined to have some kind of role in my life.

Instead of pondering on it any longer, I flip open the folder to see the contents inside.

Inside of the folder was photographs. A crime scene. The photos are older – twenty, thirty years maybe, degraded from the time that they were from. But what they depicted inside of them were no less gruesome from the lack of quality. Murdered women, beaten and bloody. Stabbed multiple times. Even though I had seen plenty of murdered bodies, both before my time as a detective and now, it's still something that causes me to still for a moment. I flip through them. Six different women in total, all young brunettes. Two of them looked like prostitutes, the rest looked like regular middle-class women.

"Mom, what is this?" I finally ask out loud, looking up at her with raised brows for an explanation.

"You were barely a teenager when all of this happened. She must have been, oh, nine or ten when it happened. The bodies that you're looking at? That is the work of one Joseph Kepner. A Dallas native. Tried and arrested for the murder of all six women and found guilty. He was sentenced to death. It was a big deal back then but you were just a kid and I understand why you don't remember it." Joseph Kepner. The name doesn't ring a bell, but… Kepner. "Little miss April? That's her father. And that is why you should be staying far, far away from her." She continued.

I stared at her blankly for a moment, taking a deep breath. My gaze dropped back to the photos of the murdered women for a moment, unintentionally burning them into my mind with the information that had been dumped onto my lap. She was sweet. Kind, in an authentic way. There was no way that she could be related to someone who did less, let alone the daughter of.

"This is impossible." I finally uttered out, unsure what else to say on the matter.

"Now you know why I want you staying far away from that family of hers," Catherine punctuated her sentence by shutting the file loudly. "Nothing good could have come from that man. She's got three other sisters, too. She was the second oldest when it happened. Now, her older one, and her mother – they were the real problems of that family. Old enough to know what was going on and electing to actively ignore it." She shook her head. "Far too loyal. Refused to see what that man was doing. I'm surprised that he didn't have the chance to go after her mother, to be quite honest."

I absorbed everything that she was saying heavily, leaning back in my chair for a moment and staring blankly at the nearly consumed food on my plate. Even as I was dumbfounded by the information that she was presenting, she continued to speak.

"But her? Whoo, the gal that little girl had. She was the only member of her family who was willing to get up and testify about her father's whereabouts on the night of some of the murders and say that he wasn't home. The rest of her family was silent. Wouldn't give him an alibi, but wouldn't say a word about it, either. I remember prosecuting that case all too vividly, Jackson. So you can trust me when I say you're better off without getting involved in that mess."

The words snapped me back out of the trance I'd sunk into. "What? She what?"

"She got up on the witness stand and testified against her father. One of the youngest witnesses I've ever had in my days as a prosecutor, too. The defense had a harsh go at her from what I remember." Catherine explained as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

"So she testified against her father after he killed all those women, and you still hate her? Seriously? She can't help who her family is, Mom. I mean, what, are you suddenly going to start faulting me because Dad walked out when I was a kid? Just because I've got his DNA?" I countered against her, brows forming a deep furrow.

"That is not nearly the same thing and you know it." She disagreed. "He is a killer, baby. And she was raised by the woman who was happy to stand by his side like nothing had happened. If you don't think that's perverted her somehow, Jackson, well I don't even know what to tell you."

I sighed, shaking my head as I stood up from the table and grabbed the file. "You can't control the people I work with. And you certainly can't control the people that I want to be friends with, Mom. I'm a damn adult. And she is a great woman, no matter who or what she comes from." I defended her, a frown forming on my features.

"Then why didn't she tell you about that, hm? Why lie about what she's done?" Mom questioned.

"Oh, come on! With that kind of background? It makes sense."

The words are easy to deliver to my mom. But even I have to doubt whether or not I really believe them. Not telling me about her parents and what she'd been through, sure, that made plenty of sense. That wasn't something that you just opened up about like it was no big deal. But she'd lied about more than that. She could have said that she was from Dallas. She didn't have to present a complete lie. Chewing at my lower lip, I hold back the sigh. Not words that I want to admit in front of my mother.

We leave the conversation at that. I don't want to harass her about it any further and hear more about her opinion. I already knew where it was – but it wasn't going to change mine. Even if I was going to wonder what exactly was going on inside of April's head for her to lie to me completely.

It's late when I get home. Mostly from the stop that I took at the liquor store to pick up a bottle of whiskey.

Inappropriate handling? Perhaps. But a glass of whiskey wasn't going to kill me even if it was going to take the edge off of everything that my mom had dumped onto me tonight. When I get home and pour a glass, I can't help but open the file and pour through it again, pulling out my laptop and opening it up as well. A quick google search of her father's name pulled up old newspaper articles about when he had been captured and was in trial. As well as more recent ones when he was executed.

Even if I had known the second that she set down that case file with the photos that my mom wasn't lying, there's something a little more real about seeing all of it laid out there. A different set of bias in those articles than what came from my mother.

Maybe by the time that I'm on my second whiskey after the two glasses of wine that I'd had with dinner, I shouldn't be picking up my phone and texting April. She's probably asleep. There were a hundred different reasons that I could have talked myself down or out of it, it was definitely something better to have done in person, and yet I send a simple message anyways.

[Sent] You up?

No playful emoji like I usually offer, straightforward. I didn't want lies. I wait for the little bubble with dots to appear to indicate that she was texting back and eventually my phone screen goes dark from the lack of activity. I stare longer, waiting for it to light up with the words on her end. But a text doesn't come and it only gets closer and closer to midnight. I sighed, draining the rest of my glass and set it down in the sink without another thought.

Collapsing down on the bed, I check my phone one last time and there's still no response from April. She must have been asleep. Before I can check what I'm doing, I send her one more text.

[Sent] Want to talk.

It's not long before I fall into a dreamless sleep for the evening, going down hard from the amount of alcohol in the morning. It's sheer luck that when morning finally rolls around with my alarm blaring from my nightstand that my head isn't pounding from a hangover.

The temptation to hit snooze and grab a few more minutes of sleep is strong but I suppress it, slowly sitting up and cracking my back first thing. When I pick up my phone this time, there's finally some texts waiting from April.

[Received] Oh! I'm so sorry I was asleep!

[Received] What's up? Do you want to grab lunch today?

Sober, I'm not quite as bitter about the lack of information that she had given me about her personal life. I'm still not perfectly happy that she'd completely filled me with lies about who she was and where she came from, but… it still seemed like I knew her. Knew who she really was. Like I could see past the surface that she put up for everyone else.

But it's hard not to doubt that. I had to give her the benefit of the doubt and talk to her, try to figure out what was going on and what kind of explanation that she had for everything that she had told me so far. There had to be answers there. I was still a stranger to her, surely. Something like that was bound to give her trust issues of all kinds. Sighing, I stared at the messages once more, glad that she hadn't replied last night. The conversation could have taken a whole different direction if that had happened.

[Sent] Lunch sounds good. See you later.


	4. Chapter 4

**_ APRIL _ **

The last time I had gotten any kind of good morning text was years ago. If there's ever a text waiting for me when I wake up, it's almost always something work-related.

Which made waking up to texts from Jackson all the more satisfying. I'm quick to give them an answer before hopping in the shower. There was no guarantee that a Friday lunch or afternoon would be any less busy than any other day of the week, but hopefully, we'd have to opportunity to just sit and eat without worrying about any bodies being dropped to interrupt. And even if it's silly, once I'm out and getting dressed, I put on a push-up bra underneath my blouse. It does make a difference. I almost always only wear it on dates. It wouldn't hurt.

My morning flies by from keeping busy with work, and it was lunchtime before I know it. A few minutes past noon, I grab my purse and head upstairs to find him. It only took a moment to spot him.

"Hey, are we still on for lunch?" I asked with a raise of my eyebrows and a hopeful smile.

"Yeah, I'm ready." Jackson nodded, not quite looking at me. "Let's go."

He walked by me without so much as giving me a smile or even a look, and I stay in place for a moment to stare at his form. That was unusual. After a moment of gathering my bearings once more, I'm quick to catch up with him once again and trail behind him, unsure what to say. Something must have been weighing at his mind. With his kind of work, well, it was easy to get weighed down with all of the things that we saw on a daily basis.

We get into his car and he still doesn't say another word for me. I stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, and he still doesn't. Before I could get much antsier, I finally begin to break the silence.

"So, where are we going?" I asked, glancing over at him.

"I was thinking Super Chix. Good fried chicken, custard. That alright?" Jackson asked. He still doesn't look at me, but at least he's not being completely silent this time. That's some kind of improvement.

"Yeah, sounds yummy," I agreed enthusiastically. After another tense moment of silence, I finally blurted out the question on my mind. "Is something wrong? You just seem a little tense today. More than usual," I elaborated. "If something's wrong, I've been told that I am a great listener.

Jackson sighed. "How about we talk about it once we get there?" He suggested.

"Sure," I quipped back with a tight-lipped smile, not wanting to push it. "I guess you're one of those hangry types, right? I always thought that was just supposed to be a stereotype." I throw out the teasing, hoping that he'll pick up on it and perk up a little more.

But he makes some kind of noise, I can't tell if he's agreeing or disagreeing, and doesn't say anything further on the matter. Even though the drive couldn't have been more than ten minutes, it still managed to feel impossibly longer. Traffic wasn't particularly bad this time of day, not compared to typical rush hours, but the longer that I had dos it in silence with him, the worse that the traffic seemed to be.

When we arrive at the restaurant, it's pretty crowded considering that it's lunchtime. It must have been a popular place. Quietly we wait in line and place each of our orders, and the quieter it is between the two of us, the antsier that I begin to get.

After what seemed like forever, we finally sit down with our food. I can only munch and suck at my cup of sweet tea for so long before finally breaking the silence.

"So, what's going on with you? It's like I'm sitting with a stranger." I finally asked.

"I could say the same thing," Jackson remarked quickly, shaking his head.

"What are you talking about?"

Jackson doesn't say anything immediately, instead, setting down the food in his hand, wiping any grease off onto a napkin and reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. I'm only left waiting for an explanation of what was going on for a few moments. He typed something for a moment before handing his phone over to me so I could see.

Its the last thing that I expected to see. A picture of my father from nearly twenty years ago, his mugshot. Grimacing and unattractive. I'm frozen in place, useless as a deer caught in headlights, yet equally dangerous with the damage that it could do. I don't know what to do or say. There was a reason that I never spoke to anyone about my past or where I came from, and the dark look in his eyes was exactly why. He looked at me like he hated me like I was the same monster that I came from.

I know that I'm nothing like my father. There was a reason that I was the black sheep of my family. I was nothing like the rest of them. I had run far away the day that I turned eighteen. I'd lived with an understanding family friend for the rest of high school, then gone straight to Chicago and started living on my own. It hadn't been easy. I'd barely been able to make ends meet and had skipped too many meals. At least when classes had started, the necessities had been covered. But the sudden slap in the face of my father's image had me feeling like the same girl on her own in the city: lost, scared, terrified to be defined by the place that I had come from. Just when I thought I'd had a new start again, here it was, slapping me in the face, letting me know that I would never truly be free.

"Are you going to say anything?" Jackson asked, drawing me away from how quickly my thoughts spiraled.

"How did you find out about this?" It was all that I could ask.

"My mom is Catherine Avery." _Oh._ He didn't have to say anything more, but he did. "She was the prosecutor on the case. The second that I told her about you, she knew exactly who you were. Told me to stay far away from you and your family. I mean, did you think that this is something that you would just be able to hide from me?" He questioned harshly.

I pushed the food away from me, looking away from him. I don't want to get mad. I don't want to be like him. Yet the anger is there, raging and coursing through my system.

"I didn't know… not when we first met. I didn't put it together until we went out to dinner." I explained, staring down at my nails. "I thought… I don't know, okay? I don't know what I thought. I don't tell people about where I come from for a reason. And that reason? The way that you're looking at me right now. Like I'm the monster." My gaze finally snapped up at him with the accusation, biting down hard on my lower lip to keep it from trembling.

"That's not the way that I'm looking at you," Jackson disagreed quickly. "But you've been lying to me. I mean, what, is this all an act? Are you trying to get close to my family or something?"

My mouth fell agape for a moment with the accusations. "What? No. This has nothing to do with you or your family, Jackson. Nothing at all. He's dead and… I'm glad." I'd never said the words out loud, yet there's some kind of relief in having it out and in the open. "I am my own person and I am not defined by anyone. Not my father, not my family, no one but myself. I do not depend on anyone else. And you know, frankly, it's kind of sexist that you would just jump to that kind of conclusion which is disappointing because I actually thought that you were better than trying to pull that kind of crap."

"April, stop. This has nothing to do with you being a woman and you know it." Jackson cut me off before I could go any further. "I don't think that you're a bad person or like him, alright? But you did lie to me."

"Do you blame me? Look how you're reacting!" I snapped back.

"I'm reacting like this because you lied to me, April. It's not because of where you're coming from." He disagreed quickly with a shake of his head. "These are two completely separate issues."

I leaned back in my chair, sucking in a deep breath and quickly releasing it in a sigh. "How am I supposed to believe that?" I asked with a shake of my head, glancing away from a moment. "Everyone who has ever known about this about me has been so happy to slap it right back in my face. I was proposed to, once, you know? Back in medical school. And I wanted to tell him before I gave him an answer. When I did… God, I wanted to leave the city. I was so embarrassed that I nearly dropped out of medical school because of how much power that he had over me. And I swore to myself that I would never put myself in the position again." I hadn't opened up about that in a long time. It still stung coming out.

Jackson stiffened for a moment, clenching his jaw. "I'm sorry that happened to you," he said. "But I'm not that guy, okay? Just as much as you're not your father. You can't just assume that I'm going to be like that."

"Okay, that is not even near the same thing." I disagreed with a quick shake of my head. "They are way different. My father… he was a monster, okay? I know that. I know. But this isn't just like, some one-time thing. This is a huge thing. This is the kind of thing that everyone jumps to a conclusion about."

"I'm not just everyone else, April," Jackson disagreed with a shake of his head. "You can't assume that, okay? I like you. I like you a lot, actually. That's why it kind of sucks to find out that you've been lying to my face the entire time. I mean, why lie about everything? About not being from Dallas?" He asked.

"It's easier. No one thinks to ask about some middle of nowhere place. I just… needed the past to stay there. It's hard enough being back here," I sighed quietly, dropping my gaze.

"Can I ask why you came back here?" He prompted.

I kept my eyes down on my hands, trying to figure out what to say. I still had to ask myself that question here and there, and this was just another one of the moments. There'd been the job opportunity, sure. It was a great one, a promotion that I deserved. But why had I applied for it in the first place? There were hundreds of other cities, other places that I could have gone to. I still chose Dallas.

"It feels like I have unfinished business here," I commented, chewing my lower lip. I picked up a french fry, munching on it slowly. "Like I have some kind of repenting to do here. Like I need to pay back. Put good into the world, into the city, because of everything he did."

"You didn't do anything, April." He lowered his head, reaching across the table and taking one of my hands. "And actually, from what my mom told me, it sounds like you've already put the good back into the world. She told me that you testified against your dad's whereabouts on the nights of the murders. You were a kid and you still knew what the right thing to do was, even though he was your father. There's not a lot of people who can say they would do something like that, adults or kids. You're not a bad person." Jackson's voice was soft and gentle, giving my hand a squeeze.

"Six women died. All of them had families. Children." I sighed heavily and looked back up at him. "That's not something that I can just forget about or move on from. Even if it's not my fault. it doesn't matter."

I'd never been able to shake that thought. I'd tried for years. I loved my work and I thought that it would help, that putting more criminals like my father behind bars would make me feel better. I knew that I played an integral role in the process and provided detectives with information that they may not have otherwise been able to find. I was important. My work was important. But it didn't compensate. There was no compensating. No matter what I did, at the end of the day, nothing would change what had happened in the past.

Knowing that didn't stop me from trying, dangerous as it may have been.

"You have to know that it's not healthy for you to just sit on that information like you can change anything that happened. You did what you could. You did the best thing that you could do, April. Lingering on that is only letting him win. You're letting him control your life when that should be the last thing that you want to give him. He already took away your childhood. He doesn't have to take away the rest of your life, too." Jackson postulated sympathetically.

Leaning back and withdrawing my hand to put a little distance between the two of us, I shook my head. He has a point and a strong one at that. Even after all of these years, the influence that my father had on my life was practically controlling me. I hadn't been able to throw it out in the same way that I had hung him up to dry. But I was not the one in control. He still had all the power.

"You know that I'm right," Jackson added after a quiet moment.

"Maybe." That was all that I could muster up, giving a shrug of my shoulders.

I picked at my food for a few moments and this time, I relish in the silence that fell between the two of us, not wanting to discuss the subject of my father and everything that he had done any further. I wasn't sure if the fact that this was his area of expertise made things better or worse. He didn't have the same biases that the public might have with this information, he had the real deal of information. This was probably one of the few circumstances where knowing the actual truth was worse than going off of just assumptions.

It's easy to get back into his car, but the drive still felt stupidly long because all that I want to do is be alone. I nearly run away from him by the time that we reach the precinct again, making my way to the women's bathroom quickly, locking the door behind me.

No one else was in the bathroom. I take advantage of the lack of females in the office and breakdown, tears freely falling inside of one of the stalls. A few minutes pass where I just let it out and don't stop the tears from falling. It's a little cathartic to let all of it out. But by the time I'm done, I don't feel any better about it. I just feel tired.

I take a moment to fix my makeup in the mirror again before heading downstairs to the autopsy room and finishing up the last of my most recent report, signing off on it quickly. I want to go home. More importantly, I want a glass of red wine.

The end of my shift couldn't come fast enough and I'm out of the building exactly at four o'clock, heading to my Honda and getting in without so much as a second thought. I hear Jackson calling out my name, and I ignored it, shutting the car doc and immediately turn on the engine and up the music. I don't usually rip out of the parking lot so aggressively – usually, it's pretty pointless, given the Dallas traffic on a Friday afternoon is hell in almost every way imaginable. Yet I let myself get caught up in the road rage and traffic jams of the afternoon without so much as a second thought until I'm in my apartment.

Dropping my crap by the door, I have two goals in mind. Getting myself a big glass of wine is no problem. Then I head to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes and shrugging on a fuzzy bathrobe. I turn on the bathtub and begin to fill it up with water, dipping under the sink to pull out a bath bomb. My laptop was propped up on the counter where I could easily watch _The Office_ while in the tub. All I wanted to do was drown for a while and ignore the rest of the world. I needed something funny to watch, not anything dramatic or thought-provoking. It would do.

Zen finally finds me.

But just as easily as I grab it, it's gone again in the form of a knock on my door. I hadn't ordered anything for dinner yet and I'm not expecting company. I'm far from being noisy with my neighbors. I pause for a moment, wondering if it was worth it – by the time I got out and into my robe, they probably wouldn't even be standing at the door anymore. But I get up and go, just on the off chance that it's some kind of emergency.

When the door swings open, it was Jackson standing on the other side.

I'm suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that I'm standing there in only a bathrobe, no make-up and hair soaked from the slouched position that I'd taken in my bathtub, tightening the grip that I have on my only piece of clothing to make sure that it's completely closed.

"Jackson?" I paused, looking him over. "What the hell are you doing here?" Of course, the answer becomes a little more transparent. He's got a box of pizza in one hand, a six pack of beer in the other. Dallas Blonde. Shouldn't have been surprised that he would drink local.

"I… felt like I needed to make up for lunch. I figured that it wasn't really what you expected. I kind of bombarded you and I wanted to apologize." Jackson explained.

I blinked, staring at him blankly for a moment. "You… you don't need to apologize," I finally murmured and gave a shake of my head. "I should apologize for freaking out on you and lying. I'm… why don't you come in?" I wasn't sure that I could apologize in full for it. I couldn't say that I wouldn't do it again, or that my reasons behind it had been wrong. Truthfully, I didn't think that they were. All of it felt perfectly justified.

"Sure," I moved out of his way as he stepped inside of my apartment and immediately made his way at home, setting down the pizza and beer on the kitchen counter. I stared at him for a moment before realizing I'm still dripping wet.

"I uh… I'm going to go put on some real clothes."

Before I could put my foot in my mouth any further, I rush back to my bathroom and closet. Draining the tub, I flip through my clothes in frustration. I wanted to know why he was really here. Was this a date? Was he going to try and sleep over?

There was the spiral. Shaking my head, I quickly pull on a pink thong and matching bralette, slipping into some black leggings and a teeshirt. It's casual. A little cute, with the lace of my bralette peeking out from the v-line of the shirt. It would do. I smear on a little bit of concealer underneath my eyes before combing through tangles of hair and leave it at that, not wanting to go over the top of taking too much time in here.

"Hey," I greeted, an awkward smile offered at him. He'd already found my plates and put down two slices on each, cans of beer popped out of the plastic rings they were held in. "So… what's really up? You know you didn't have to come over here."

"I told you. I felt bad," he shrugged one shoulder. "I just wanted to make it up to you.."

"Thanks," I glanced down, picking at my nails for a brief moment. "Can I ask you something?" I finally blurted out, a little more sudden than what I wanted it to, looking back up at him again.

"Yeah, shoot." Jackson nodded.

I stared at him for a moment, wondering if I was being too forward or too presumptuous. Maybe he really was just a genuinely nice guy, there as no other kind of motive. Nothing behind it other than wanting to be a good coworker. Or maybe I was just trying to talk myself out of being close to him. Both of them seemed equally likely.

"Why are you being so nice to me? People are always happy to just turn me away whenever they find out about that and… I've been a loner for a while now. I've kind of gotten used to it just being me and Essie." Almost on cue or hearing the sound of my voice, the cat jumps up onto the kitchen counter. Jackson gave her a glance with a small chuckle. "I'm not really used to having people in my life. Coworkers, sure, but… you're just acting like a lot more than a concerned coworker." I elaborated.

"I like you," Jackson stated the words clearly as if it was the most casual thing in the world, a smile curling onto his lips that was nearly enough to leave me stunned into place.

"Why?" Oh, God. I have no grace. None at all.

"Why?" He laughed louder than before, clearly amused despite my own horrified inner thoughts. "Because you're kind. You have the kind of smile that makes everyone else around you want to smile, that kind of… infectious happiness that's just contagious and healthy to be around. You're a good person. Even if you've got a dark past, that doesn't make you dark. You're like this ray of sunshine despite everything that you've come from. And you're easy to talk to. Really, really easy. You don't find that in a lot of people these days." Jackson answered my stunned question without what seemed like an effort.

A blush warmed my cheeks and I can't help smile despite the serious exterior that I was trying to present, chewing on my lower lip and looking up at him through his lashes. I'm not used to honesty, that's much for sure. But it was a breath of fresh air compared to everything I'm used to.

Essie walked over toward Jackson on the counter, ignoring the pizza and sniffing at his arm for a moment before bumping her head against him. "Well, she likes you." I'm commented, trying to contain my smile. "I guess that means I have to like you too."

"Are you going to take that back if I tell you that I have a dog?" Jackson asked with a raise of his eyebrows, even though he reached out and stroked her fur with the comment. "A big ol' golden retriever named Brody. He's a big sweetheart. But I've got nothing against cats, either."

"Good to know." I chuckled. "I like dogs, too. Big ones make me jumpy sometimes but cats just get easier when you don't have a yard and you live downtown. I know that this part of the city is safer than a lot of other parts, but I still don't want to be wandering around at night just to walk a dog. I mean, maybe if I had a scary looking one, but I'm not exactly a threatening figure all on my own…" I trailed off for a moment, remembering that he'd come over here with food. "Shall we eat?"

We grab the pizza and beer and sit down in front of the television, only putting it on for background noise. I listen to him talk a little more about his dog and where he lived. Southlake had been mostly just another suburb when I'd lived here as a teenager, but apparently, it had blown up into a nicely in the past decade and a half.

By the time that we're both stuffed full of pizza, we're stretched out and relaxed. The atmosphere had relaxed between us. It's completely different than the heavy tension that had been there at lunch, even if I can't help but feel like the conversation wasn't completely over.

"I have something that I should tell you too," I murmured, taking another sip of the light beer. "I like you too, Jackson."

"Are you going to tell me why?" He turned the question back on me with a smile.

"Maybe if you behave."


	5. Chapter 5

**_ JACKSON _ **

When I wake up in the morning, it's much brighter than what I'm used to.

Morning sunlight streamed in through the open windows and I open up, glancing around. A moment passed and I realized that I'm not in my own room but instead there's a redhead sleeping soundly next to me. She's wearing a nightie and her hair was sprawled across the pillow. Stretching out a little bit, the hiss of a cat surprised me and I nearly jumped.

"Shit, sorry," I muttered out, squinting at the form of a retreating feline. Whoops. At least according to one person inside of the apartment, it seemed like I had already overstayed my welcome. Hopefully, the cat's owner wouldn't agree. April stirred next to me, accidentally kicking one of my legs. Either she's got a subconscious connection with her cat or she's even squirmier than I am. I chuckled, reaching over and rubbing her arm gently to try and stir her more awake without startling her.

"Mm…" she groaned out, her lashes fluttering before her gaze locked onto me. "Morning." She breathed out, more distinguishable. "Did we…?" She prompted, raising her eyebrows.

"No," I shook my head. "You were a little tipsy. I didn't take you to be much of a lightweight."

The teasing words earn a quick slap on my chest, April pushing me away for a moment as she sat up in her bed and stretched out her arms and back fully. "Don't be mean." She said. "I gotta feed Essie before she starts meowing my ears off. You– oh god. Your poor dog! You never went home. He must be dying." She rambled, suddenly looking at me with big eyes.

"I have a dog door. And uh, he's a smart guy. He can get into his food." I chuckled. That was something that I'd found out rather quickly. The dog door had been intentional knowing that my schedule was less than convenient but I'd come home before to empty bags of dog food shredded across the kitchen. Brody knew how to take care of himself.

"Let me get breakfast started," April swung her legs off the bed, grabbing a silk robe and slipping it on.

"I think that's my job." I countered.

"Oh yeah? Are you trying to insinuate that you don't think I'm a good cook? Because you're right. I hate breakfast. The only thing that I'm good at making is pasta." She admitted with loud laughter falling from her lips. "But there's a Panera down the street if you want to put on a shirt and get something good. I don't even have eggs."

My eyebrows shot up at her and I couldn't help but smile. "That sounds like a plan." I get up, grabbing my shirt from yesterday and slipping it on. It's a little wrinkled, but it would do for now.

But before we really get the chance to get out the door, my phone rings. Her's followed up a few seconds later and I move to grab it, answering after a moment. It's Shepherd on the other end of the phone, telling me that we've got another case popped up. Female in her twenties, body dumped in an alleyway. I glanced over at April and waited for her to hang up the phone, but it's clear from her side of the conversation that she was getting the same phone call.

"We can take my car," I suggested with a raise of my eyebrows.

"Sure," April nodded. "Let me just get changed real quick."

I give her a few minutes and the redheaded woman emerged quickly wearing dark pants and a button-down shirt. Somehow combing her hair was tough to make it look completely flawless because I knew that she hadn't had time to actually do anything further. Any conversation about possible plans is dropped when it came to dealing with our work, getting down to my truck quickly and heading over toward the crime scene. She lived in the northern part of the city, not quite downtown, but certainly a much quicker and easier drive than what it would have been at my house.

Parking on the street, it doesn't take long to identify the particular alleyway that had been cut off. There's police tape keeping back any curious passerby's, a small crowd of attention already drawn. Enough to make it slightly less obvious that the two of us were actually getting here together.

April attended to the body first, pulling back the sheet. Young, bright red hair. Looked a little bit like April, if I was being completely honest, even if that's not the best association to make when you come across a dead body.

But when she pulled back the sheet even further, it's not the obviously fake hair that caught my attention. Instead, it's the fact that there's a big letter carved into her abdomen.

_A._

There's plenty of connotations for it. I remember reading The Scarlet Letter in high school, even if it hadn't been my favorite book. Not all the details – but it made enough sense, at least. The woman looked like a prostitute, an adulteress. It fell right into place with how she could have been viewed by someone who was twisted enough to go through with doing this.

"It looks like she's been here about eight hours," April announced, drawing my thoughts away from the details of the body. "We'll get her packed up and perform the autopsy today." She turned toward me, a frown drawing across her features.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before? The letter carving, I mean?" I asked her, raising my brows.

"No," she answered with a quick shake of her head. "Something like this wouldn't be quite so easy to forget, I'm sure. Why? Have you?"

I shook my head. "No." I'm new enough that any major repeats would have been quick to attention my attention, there's no doubt about that. But there's still something more here, something that I couldn't quite place my finger on. "Something about it just… feels familiar," I thought out loud. Before I could ponder much more about it, my partner grabbed my attention.

"I haven't seen anything like this, either," Shepherd chimed in. "A real freak show, carving her up like this. There's some book – what was the movie, with the redhead Emma? Emma Stone?"

"Easy A," April answered easily.

"Dude, okay, why do you know that movie?" I remarked, giving him an incredulous look.

"Blame Meredith," Derek answered shaking his head. "Can you get started on this autopsy ASAP, doc? Something like this is definitely going to draw some attention. The sooner that we can get answers about it, the better." He elaborated. I found myself nodding in agreement as he spoke.

"As soon as Hunt is here with the van, we'll get it going," April agreed with a nod of her head. We both exchanged smiles for a brief moment before I stepped aside with Derek.

Shepherd lowered his voice, addressing me. "Am I the only one who finds it weird that the victim looks like Kepner?"

"What?" I questioned as if I hadn't been thinking it myself. "Just because it's a redhead doesn't mean anything."

Derek shrugged, and we both instinctively step out of the way of one of the CSIs coming or going. "Just sayin'."

I glanced one more around the crime scene, letting go of the sigh that I was holding onto. It was just a coincidence, and I knew I wouldn't have thought twice about any brunette or blonde who would have ended up in the exact same position. It did bug me a little bit that Shepherd had brought it up but he had also been harassing me about her ever since he had found out that the two of us had gone out for drinks one night. Who knew what he would have done if he found out that I had spent last night at her place.

"Detectives?" One of the CSIs grabbed our attention.

"What's up?" We answered in sync.

"We found this laying on top of the dumpster." The male handed me what appeared to be a bloodied newspaper clipping, already stuck inside of one of the evidence bags. We both peered over it for a moment, reading the faded text through the plastic and blood.

Prostitute Found With Slashed Throat.

Huh. I blinked at it for a moment, flipping it over to look at the other side but there was no more revealing information about it. "Let's get this to the lab and see where it's from," I said as I handed it back to him, turning toward Shepherd. "Something like that can't be a coincidence," I remarked.

"Think it's some kind of copycat? Of whoever did what that article was written about?" He prompted.

I thought the possibility over for a moment before giving a small nod of my head. "It's possible, yeah. Let's make sure we find out where that's from and pull the case files on it as soon as possible. Ready to head back to the station?"

After he agreed, the both of us head back over to the station. I exchange another quick glance with April who looked like she was arguing with Hunt over something, but don't step in to get involved. I knew that she could more than take care of things on her own and he had apparently been a pain in her neck from day one. I'm sure she wouldn't struggle with putting him into place. I want to ask how she's going to get home – but that's an offer that I can always make to her later when there's no one else around.

The first thing that we do is go through to find the origin of the newspaper clipping. It takes some searching through archives but once we get it, we pull a newspaper from twenty-two years ago. Far from what I had expected. But it gives us the information that we need to pull the actual case file.

Margaret Hale, twenty-seven years old was the original case file. When we go to the only database to find out more information on the case, I'm floored by what the search engine gave me.

Perpetrator: Joseph Kepner. Convicted of her and five other women. Sentenced to jail on death row twenty years ago.

"Kepner, huh?" Derek questioned as he peered over my shoulder at the information on the screen. "Weird. Dr. Kepner. Now this guy. What are the chances of something like that happening? This guy must be related to the M.E." He continued to speak, ignoring the fact that I'm staring at the information completely stunned. I couldn't let April find out about this. Not yet.

"Don't say anything to anybody. Especially not to Kepner." My hands itched for my phone to grab it and call my mom, see if she knew anything about it. Something like this was in no way a coincidence. She had just gotten into town, just started working major cases. There had to be some kind of connection. And it seemed pretty likely that she was somehow in danger. But there were still far too many questions that didn't have any kind of answers.

"Jackson, she's got to know about this." He disagreed with me almost immediately.

I shook my head. "Not yet," I cautioned. "Not until we know more about this. Definitely not until we get the autopsy back. We don't want to distract her from what she's working on already. Let's look at some of the other evidence and keep this in the back of our heads, okay? I gotta make a call. I'll be right back."

There's no holding back the call that I need to make. I let out another shaky sigh, fishing my phone out of my pocket and stepping out of the bullpen so I could have some privacy. I dialed her number, listening to it ring and waiting for her to answer.

"Hello, sweetheart," Catherine answered on the other end.

"Hey, do you have a free minute? I've got a case that I want to talk to about." I braced.

"Mmhm. What's going on, sweetheart?" She questioned.

"We had a prostitute's body show up this morning. An A carved into her stomach. But uh, that's not the only thing. At the crime scene, there was a newspaper clipping. It was about Joseph Kepner's first kill, back in the day…" I explained, letting out a sigh and scratching the back of my head.

Catherine clucked her tongue. "And you don't think that little miss medical examiner has anything to do with this, I suppose? That's just like you, Jackson, and I know that I raised you better–"

"Mom." I cut her off firmly. "I know that she didn't do this, that's not why I called."

"And how do you know that she didn't do it, hm?" She seemed determined to interrogate me.

"Because I spent the night at her place and I would have noticed if she'd gotten up and left to murder someone, Mom. We talked about it yesterday. Went out to lunch and she explained herself and yes, it all made perfect sense. Like I already said, that's not why I'm calling you." I sighed noisily, not wanting to get into that particular topic more than what we already had.

Catherine sighed, mimicking me. "Go on then, tell me what you want."

"I want to know if there's anything more about his case that you didn't tell me. We're pulling up the case files to go through them just in case, but is there something more that I need to know about it? Something that only the detectives working the case might have known?" I asked.

"Joseph Kepner was a nasty, manipulative man," Catherine started. "He only ever went to jail for the murders of the six women, but he was nasty. Had all kinds of violent behavior before the murders actually started, lots of angry women in his past, even if most of them were far too terrified of him to actually raise a finger and protest against him."

I frowned. None of the information that she was giving me was surprising but it didn't actually give me any new information to work off of. Most men who ended up where he did had that kind of thing in common. But even so, I don't want to go forward with this information just yet. Not to April. It was better to keep her in the dark until I had a better grasp on exactly what was going on here.

"Thanks, Mom," I breathed out, trying not to feel too defeated.

"Any time, honey. Let me know if there's anything else that I can do to help."

Hanging up the phone, I pocket it and linger outside for a moment, trying to collect myself. I don't want Shepherd to talk to April about it, that much was for sure. He was far from delicate over any sensitive matters and a part of me thought that he might have a thing for her. A combination better left untouched by him.

I run my hand over my head and head back inside of the bullpen to go back and forth over ideas with Derek, trying to avoid the more delicate subject at hand. There's other evidence to go over, evidence that doesn't have anything to do with any Kepners.

Midday, I take a brief break and head home to take care of my dog and get changed into clean clothes. I didn't need to work it quite so intensely on a Saturday when www didn't even have the autopsy report back, but I wasn't about to stop. That newspaper clipping had already gotten inside of my head and I knew that I wasn't going to rest until I had more information about it.

Shepherd called it quits before I did. My stomach was rumbling with hunger but I couldn't help but scan the crime scene photos and the article again, looking at the pictures from Joseph Kepner's original victim, as well. None of this was looking good.

Feeling a bit defeated myself, I headed downstairs to the morgue, hoping that April would have some kind of answers that could send me down a road that had nothing to do with her or her past. I didn't want her to feel cornered in. She'd only just opened up to me about this and spinning it around back on her again wasn't going to do either of us any good. I needed her focused on the case.

When I entered the basement of the building, she was hunched over a microscope, looking at some kind of slide. Hunt was nowhere to be seen, and I let out a breath of relief. No need to put on some kind of air of professionalism that neither of us actually care about.

"Hey," I greeted, offering her a tired smile.

"Hi." She perked up. "I'm not quite done yet, still waiting on some of the labs to finish running. But I found one weird thing that I don't really know what to think of. Which, you know, good thing that you're the homicide detective and I'm just here to tell you ll the science behind it."

My eyebrows raised. "Oh yeah? What's that?

"The victim's hair was dyed within the last twenty-four hours. She hadn't even had the chance to take a shower with it. But I talked to one of the CSIs who ran her cards for recent purchases and she hasn't been to a hair salon or anything of the likes," April explained.

"So you're saying that the guy who killed her must have dyed her hair too?" I questioned, brows furrowing down together. This was only becoming more and more suspicious with each passing moment. There was a part of me that was dying to tell her the truth and let her know everything that was going on, but I didn't want to scare or overwhelm her. And if I was wrong… that would just be asking for even more trouble between the two of us.

"That's what it looks like," she agreed, sitting back down on the stool at the table.

"Huh." I huffed out, folding my arms for a moment and stepping near her.

April looked up at me. "Is there something on your mind?"

Of course, there was. More than just one or two simple somethings, more than just the black and white details of the case. I'm worried about her safety. I certainly don't want her catching the bus or going home alone. I just don't know how to tell her that without alarming her any further, and the last thing that I wanted to do was lie to her. Especially after I'd made such a big deal about her not being completely honest with me.

"It's just the case," I finally answered, forcing a shrug. "Something about it isn't quite sitting right with me." That was honest enough, even if it wasn't giving her the complete truth, either. Some kind of tainted middle ground.

She reached over for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'll get the autopsy report to you on Monday, okay? Don't worry. We'll figure it out." April said. "Besides, the two of us already make a pretty good team. I'm sure that we're going to be just fine." She reassured me. I nodded.

"Thanks," I breathed out quietly. "You need a ride home, too." I reminded her.

"I know," she nodded. "Are you offering?"

"I am." I smiled. "Just come upstairs and find me whenever you're ready, alright?"

"I shouldn't be much longer down here. Just a few more things that I want to finish up."

Giving her another smile, I pull out my phone and send Derek a quick text about the fact that the victim's hair was dyed shortly before her death. I take the stairs back up to the bullpen, writing it down on a sticky note and pinning it on top of one of the crime scene photographs. This was looking more and more suspicious with each passing moment.

"What am I missing…" I mumbled to myself, slinking down into a chair and folding my hands over my stomach. There was a connection here between the perpetrator and April's father. It was likely that April was in danger. But the last thing that I wanted to do was jump to a conclusion, even if now it seemed impossible not to.

Shuffling through the paperwork once more, I set up his first victim and the current victim's photos side by side, trying to find a similarity. If she'd been beaten regularly instead of the letter carved into her abdomen, and her hair hadn't been dyed, then maybe there would have been a few more similarities to find there. But side by side, they don't look that similar. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe the newspaper there had been unrelated and not planted by whoever had done it. But I couldn't convince myself of that.

Not wanting April to walk upstairs and find me looking over the cases of her father's murders, though, I quickly tuck the files back into an unlabelled manilla folder and place it beneath some of the other things that were spread across the table at the moment, letting it blend in. I didn't want to add any bias in her report. I could justify that, at least.

I would get some sleep and try to clear my head, and come at all of this tomorrow from a different angle. An angle that didn't include any Kepners. Hopefully, that would be easier to do when the autopsy report was finalized.

"Hey." April's voice drew me back out of my thoughts and I sit up suddenly, blinking a few times to draw myself out of my haze before I can give her a smile that I hope is convincing.

"Hi," I greeted. "You ready to go?"

After she nodded her head, we head out to my truck without much discussion. I'm not sure what to say to her without spilling out the details of the newspaper clipping. At least there were no obvious similarities between what her father had done and the case that we had now. If there were, then she would have been able to pick up on that herself, no doubt.

But if she hadn't said anything, then perhaps it really was just a bad coincidence. But even if it wasn't… then it was a calling card, maybe. Some kind of identifying factor. Or some kind of way to mock April for who she was and who she came from. But she had said that she kept her past to herself. I didn't think that there were a lot of other people in the city who knew about where she came from. I didn't plan on changing that and hopefully, my mother nor Shepherd would.

"Do you want to come home with me tonight?" I finally asked, glancing over at her in the passenger seat.

"What?" She stuttered out, looking at me and blinking a few times. "Really? You want me to come to your house? Is this a sex thing, because we didn't last night?"

"No," I answered with a laugh. Even if the comment might have bugged me under normal circumstances, it's the kind of laughter that I need at the moment to distract myself from what was really on my mind. "No, no. Not even close. But it's a Saturday night and you don't cook and I saw your kitchen. You don't have a lot to eat, either. We could pick up some dinner and just have a normal date night. With a totally PG-13 sleepover involved."

April beamed at me. "Okay, that sounds good," she agreed. "Can we swing by my house first so I can feed Essie and grab some stuff first?"

"Sure."

It's a relatively quick stop at her apartment, and I stay sitting down in my truck restlessly, scrolling through my phone. The news about the murder had made its way to the paper and there was some speculation, but nothing that involved any kind of copycat. Good. There wasn't much to be seen besides the fact that people found it to be crazy and abnormal.

Night had already fallen and traffic was a bust, so it didn't take long to get from her apartment in the city to my house in the suburbs. We swung by a Chipotle for dinner, not going for anything fancy. It's a gated neighborhood even though it's just me and the dog. Better safe than sorry.

"Wow," she remarked as we pulled into the driveway and I parked in the garage. "This… this place is huge. And beautiful. I can't believe that you can afford something like this." She paused before picking up on her faux pas. "Sorry, sorry. That was so inappropriate. Pretend I didn't say that. It's an amazing house, Jackson."

I shrugged it off easily. "Thanks."

When I opened up the door to my house from the garage, Brody is there and ready to jump up on me. I give a laugh and pat the golden retriever's head before he quickly turned his attention onto April, sniffing her and giving her the exact same treatment, jumping up on her and licking at her hands.

"Come on, down boy." I chastised him lightly. He ran circles around the two of us for a moment and I shook my head, thoroughly amused. "Sorry, he always gets super excited whenever someone new comes over. He'll calm down in a few minutes."

"Oh, I don't mind," April said with a shake of her head, stroking her hand along his back.

I moved to the utility room for a moment to get Brody fed, and he comes running at the sound of his food pouring in the bowl. Then we both sit down to eat on our own terms without the dog begging for a bite of his own, each of us tearing through our meals after a long day of work. We each filled up quickly and made our way to the couch, flipping on the television even if it's not at the forefront of either of our minds.

"Do you mind if I ask you something a little personal?" I prompted, turning toward her and unable to get my mind from reeling about the information related to the most recent case.

"No, go ahead." She answered.

"Does anyone else in the city know about you? Your dad, really." I questioned.

April stared at me for a moment, frowning. "Uh, no, not really. I mean, there are the people who worked the case way back when, at least, whichever of them are still alive and in the city. But… you're the only person that I've really talked to about any of it. Why?"

"No reason," I lied, shaking my head and holding back a sigh. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her in closer. "Just confirming how much more you like me over the average person," I threw in for some good measure.

"I do like you much more than the average person. I've never been good with the living, actually. Much better off with me and the dead." April commented, resting her head on my shoulder.

I chuckled, shaking her unintentionally. "You have to realize how weird that sounds to anyone else in the world, right?"

"Oh, I know." She beamed. "Do you want to know what I like about my job?"

"Sure," I nodded for her to continue.

"The dead don't get to judge me or mock me or tease me. Not like the living. And I get to help them." She answered.

I pulled her in a little closer if it were possible, pressing a kiss on top of her head. "I'm not going to do any of that. You know that, right?"

"I do. I know."

This time when the two of us fall asleep together, we don't even make it to the bed. We fall asleep right in place on the couch with my television still turned on and eventually playing some late night show, her head resting on my lap.


	6. Chapter 6

**_ APRIL _ **

"My back is killing me," I complained as I stretched out, bending down to touch my toes. I wrap my forearms around the back of my calves to properly stretch out, amused with the whistle that Jackson let out.

"If you'd shown me that you could do that last night, we might've had a better chance at making it to me bad." He retorted.

"I'm pretty sure that qualifies as sexual harassment, Detective Avery." I grinned as I straightened back up, stretching my arms up and out. "I know that you're not the type to be guilty of that. I'm pretty sure you leave that to your partner." I added and gave an innocent shrug of my shoulders. If he made fun of Shepherd enough, then I'm sure that it was safe territory for me to encroach on as well.

Jackson snorted. "Funny that he's the married one, isn't it?"

"Mmhm." I hummed out in agreement.

It's Sunday morning which meant that I should be heading back to my apartment and getting my normal weekend activities done given that I had spent all of yesterday working on the new, weird case that had come up. There was grocery shopping that I needed to do, my bathroom needed cleaning, and I was probably running low on wet food for Essie by this time of the week. Sure, I always left out dry food for her, just in case. That's why I didn't have to worry about her just yet. I've got enough reasons to go home and I still don't want to.

"I have an idea for what we can do today since our Saturday kind of got ruined by the whole dead body." Jackson started, stretching out a little and scratching the back of his head.

"Our Saturday?" I questioned his particular word choice with a raise of my brows. "I don't know if you remember, but we did spend most of yesterday together in one way or another."

"No, you spent your Saturday cutting open a dead body." He disagreed.

I shrugged. "Technicalities. What's on your mind?"

"Well, I have a kayak and Lake Grapevine is pretty great this time of year. I was thinking we could take her out on the water. You could probably use the sun," he added in a tease that resulted in me rolling my eyes almost immediately. "Plus, Brody is a pretty great co-captain." No doubt cued from hearing his name, the golden retriever perks up from where he's laid on the floor.

"Kayak?" I questioned. "I've never been on a lake before. I don't know if that's such a good idea. Aren't those things prone to capsizing? I mean, I can swim, but I don't know if I want to be in dirty lake water." My nose scrunched up. So I'm a little scared of drowning. There are worse things to be scared of.

"I've never capsized. I'm good at it, trust me. And I have an extra lifejacket that I'm sure you're going to look adorable in," Jackson grinned.

I folded my arms, scrunching up my nose. "What am I supposed to wear?"

"I've got something that you can borrow." He suggested.

"Please tell me that you don't have some other girl's bikini just hanging around in one of your drawers," I said.

Jackson gave a loud laugh. "No, not even close."

By the time that we're in his truck and towing his kayak out to the lake, I'm wearing a pair of his running shorts that are way too baggy on me and a tank top, tucking it into the shorts to keep it from looking too huge. I look a little ridiculous with that and my own sunglasses, rubbing sunscreen on my shoulders and nose as he drives over the lake. I burn and bruise like a peach, and I really don't want to show up to work tomorrow looking like a lobster.

I try to help him drag the kayak out to the edge of the lake, but he does pretty much all of it on his own. It's no doubt designed for one person but there's extra room for a seat behind it which he snapped in for me. Brody jumps in the front of the kayak without any hesitation. It looked like this was something that the two of them had done together a few times before.

"This feels… weird." I commented once we're both settled inside of it and a bit away from the shore. It works like a bike on his end, so he was putting in all of the effort to get the two of us moving.

"You'll get used to it, trust me," Jackson said, glancing back at me.

Brody readjusted himself, moving in a quick circle before settling down again. "Are you sure about that?" I questioned, squirming slightly in my seat.

"Relax. I promise it's fine. People come out here specifically to relax. It's supposed to be peaceful." He insisted. I pressed my lips together in a line, taking a deep breath and trying to will my muscles into relaxing. I focused on the feeling of the sun warming and freckling my skin further, allowing myself to sink back into the chair a little further. It's ridiculously nice outside, the perfect amount of warmth. We're both quiet, but it was one of those moments where we just didn't need to talk.

"Okay, I get now." I murmured out after awhile, pulling off my sunglasses and hooking them on my shirt so hopefully, I wouldn't get any tan lines from them. "This is nice."

"Mmhm," Jackson hummed out.

We stayed out on the water for at least an hour, able to forget all of the woes of work and everything that would come slamming back full force tomorrow morning. It's nice to forget, to be absorbed in nature like this. I'm sure that my allergies would be driving me crazy later in the day, but the kind of relaxation that this was giving me at the moment was completely worth it.

Eventually, Jackson started turning us into the direction of the shoreline. I can hear his stomach rumbling with hunger and I'm just as hungry even if my stomach doesn't make as many noises.

"Alright, we'll have to get out here and drag it back up to my truck." Jackson let me know, glancing back. Brody jumped out of the kayak knowingly, running back up the shore and taking out to send water droplets flying out everywhere. Jackson gets out without hesitation, water just above his knees. I hesitate for a moment with him watching me, cautiously getting out and shivering at the cool lake water. "Oh, c'mon. It's not that cold," he teased.

"Shush!" I disagreed, splashing water toward him.

Jackson gave the kayak a big shove so it's no longer between us, splashing water right back at me. I squealed when the water hit my upper half and splashed it right back at him, trying to get even as though I hadn't actually started it.

"You so cannot win this." He challenged me, splashing again. I get closer to him, trying to get more water against him. It goes back and forth for only a moment before we're pushing and pulling one another into the water, and we both eventually go down at the same time.

"No, no!" I whined immediately after resurfacing for air. "Now I'm all wet!"

"You started it," he reminded me. "C'mon, I've got some towels in the truck." He grabbed my hand, tugging me along. We both hauled the kayak over to the truck and get it connected back up again. He tossed me a towel after a moment and I fanned it out.

"This isn't the dog towel, is it?" I said, glancing at Brody.

"Yeah, it might be. All I've got." Jackson laughed, giving a shrug of his shoulders. "Might as well just sit on it till we get home and can shower properly," he said. I followed his lead in stretching it over his front seat as best I could, sitting forward awkwardly to try and not drip water everywhere on the drive back to his house.

I take a shower in his guest bedroom even though I can't help but wonder what it would be like to join him in his. I know that shower sex is messy and dangerous, but I'd be lying to myself if I tried to pretend I hadn't thought about what he looked like naked. He was all muscles and he'd been shirtless in the kayak all day long. I'd pretty much memorized every muscle of his back, the few freckles that were sprinkled across his skin. He's an undeniably sexy man.

Shaking off the thoughts, I dry off and wring out my hair, realizing that my clothes were out in the bag I packed in the living room still. With the towel wrapped tightly around my frame, I sneak out, hoping he's not already finished up with his own shower.

But of course, he was. Men never took as long in the shower.

"Hi," I cleared my throat, squatting down and grabbing my bag off the floor. "Sorry. I was in such a rush to rinse off that I completely forgot my clothes were out here and now… I'm dripping on your carpet." I rambled on, cringing visibly.

"I would be lying if I said I minded," Jackson gave a shrug of his shoulders. It was clear that he was checking me out. Instead of being embarrassed about it, I straighten up slightly. Sure, I'm not usually good at this. I'm much better at pushing people away than I am letting them in. But I liked him. I'd already told him more about my life than what most people heard. He was already in.

I dropped my towel.

"Sorry," I lied but I don't bend down to get it. My bag is held in front of my hips and covering my lower half, but at least my breasts are on display for him. Instead of becoming increasingly insecure about the boldness of my actions, though, the way that he's ogling me only made me more confident.

"Don't be," Jackson said as he stepped toward me, pupils blown in his light eyes. His hands moved to my sides, thumbs brushing over my ribcage before holding onto my hips. I dropped my bag down on the sofa, stretching up to meet his lips.

We crashed together at the same time, like waves breaking as we lean into each other. His grip on me was tight and pulling me in closer and I practically inhale him in one breath. He's good at this, nearly possessing me with the dominance that he demonstrated. A man like him craved control, and there's a tiny part of me that wants to submit, wants to let go of the carefully manicured presentation of myself that I put on for the rest of the world.

I moaned into his mouth and his hand ran up my side, gently cupping a breast and rubbing his thumb across the nipple, resulting in it hardening almost instantly. I want more, so much more, his mouth and his hands, all over me and inside of me. I'm already dripping and he's barely done a thing.

But before it can progress much further my phone rings. I groan, knowing that I need to at least look at it before I can ignore it. Pressing my first finger against his lips, I pull away momentarily. It's a number that I don't recognize, the right area code, and I pause before picking it up.

"Dr. Kepner," I answered, assuming it was something work-related.

"April Kepner? This is Allison with Fort Knox Security. We've got an alert here for your apartment indicating that someone's broken in. Would you like us to send the police?" The voice on the other end of the line answered and I stare wide-eyed for a moment, Jackson staring down at me expectantly.

"I– yes, please, send the police. I'm not home. I–I'll be there as soon as possible." I stuttered out, hanging up before she could say anything further and looking up at Jackson. "Someone broke into my apartment. I need you to take me home."

As desperate as the both of us were for more, the mood is completely ruined by the sudden phone call. I quickly grabbed clothes out of my bag and shimmed into my jeans and a t-shirt, following him out the door to his truck once more.

Jackson was a little more aggressive driving back downtown and I can tell. We get to my apartment much sooner than we should have and he slammed his truck door shut as he followed me up. The police are already there, my apartment momentarily taped off. I freeze, too used to seeing the police tape in other circumstances. Seeing it inside of my own home sends my head whirling.

"Dr. Kepner?" One of the young police officers at the door addressed me, and I nodded numbly. "You– you might not want to go in."

I stared at him for a moment with wide eyes, wondering why in the world he would say something like that. As if I didn't have the years of experience to be able to handle something as simple as a basic robbery.

Stepping inside, everything is torn apart. I'm a neat person. I like things to be in place. And everything was out of place, torn apart, but nothing visibly missing. My television was still centered on the wall, but the couch cushions were ripped open. Maybe if I didn't exist in the world of law and order, I would have been confused by it. But I know what it means. They were looking for something. It could have been any number of things. Jackson followed me quietly, only grabbing me to try and stop me when I wandered into my bedroom.

"Oh god."

It's Essie and blood. More blood than what should have come from a cat. My hand slaps over my mouth and I turn around so I don't have to see it for more than a minute, a choked sobbing pass through my lips. Jackson wrapped his arms around me, stepping back to pull me away from the scene.

"Who could have done this?" I sobbed into his chest.

There are a hundred possibilities running through own head. I have to remind myself of the facts. My father is dead. He had died by lethal injection years ago and been cremated. There was no way that he could have done anything like that.

Even if I wasn't close with my mother or sisters, I couldn't bring myself to imagine that they would be capable of something like this. This wasn't typical of violent female offenders. Those facts bring more comfort than trying to rationalize some kind of good part of any member of my family. This was just a freak accident. It didn't have anything to do with anyone in my family.

I was also a Chief Medical Examiner. There were plenty of people who could have hated me because of a case, because of some kind of evidence. There was a long list of things that had absolutely nothing to do with where I came from.

"I don't know," Jackson grumbled, pulling back and placing his hands on my shoulders to look at me firmly. "But you're going to stay with me a few days until we figure this out, okay? You can pack a bag and we'll get this all figured out. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I promise." Though I wanted to believe him, the tightness in my chest refused to cooperate. It only squeezed tighter, threatening an anxiety attack in front of far too many people.

"O–okay," I practically hiccuped the words out. "I… I need to talk to the police here."

The last thing that I wanted to do was pull away from him and I'm glad when he follows me over to talk to the other police officers who had arrived on the scene.

They badgered me with questions about what someone could have wanted, who had also have come to the conclusion that it was about finding something specific and not a general robbery. But I don't take any work home. I never have. Even if I've got a decent amount of money, most of what I have is replaceable and not of particular interest to anyone who could have had a vendetta against me. It's hard to tell if there's something specific missing though with the complete mess that my apartment had become. It would take a lot of cleaning.

"They must not have found whatever they were looking for," I mumbled, looking around uneasily. I felt like I was being watched. Of course, I was, though. There was Jackson and a few other officers all with their eyes on here.

"Well let us know if you come up with anything, okay?" The younger officer said and I nodded.

"Is it alright if she packs a bag so she can stay somewhere else for a few days?" Jackson asked, and I noticed that he didn't specify where.

After the officers agree, Jackson guided me back toward my bedroom. It's hard not to look at my dead cat even as I keep my eyes trained on the ceiling, his hands on my shoulder and turning me toward the dresser. I grabbed a duffel bag from my closet and haphazardly fill it with clean socks and underwear, grabbing some toiletries. Most of my clothes are scattered and wrinkled, so I don't bother putting them in quite so carefully, packing in a quick daze, just wanting it done as quickly as possible.

"Are you sure there's nothing else you need?" He asked me gently, rubbing his hand on my arm.

"My cat's dead," I stated bluntly. "So no. Clothes are all I need."

The comment is a little more distancing than intended and I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, brushing past him for a moment to exchange a few more words with the officers. The younger one gave me his contact information, and I sigh. I have no idea where this is going.

I'm craving fresh air and quick to run outside without looking back. I leaned against the wall, tilting my head back and taking a few deep breaths. It doesn't calm me down, nor does it make me feel any safer. There's something intrusive about my apartment being broken into. I know that there are security cameras and that it's unlikely the police won't figure out who it is. But it's already too late for that.

Jackson joined me after a few minutes and I look up at him, hoping I don't look as pathetic as I feel. There's an apology dancing on the edge of my tongue, but I can't get any words out of my mouth.

"What can I do to help?" He asked gently.

"I don't know," I admitted with a sigh and shake of my head. "I think you're already doing enough. I don't have anyone else that would let me stay with them."

It's sad but true. He was the only real friend that I had made. Sure, I'm friendly enough with some of my neighbors. But not to the point where I'm sure they're going to welcome me for a sleepover. Honestly, it didn't feel safe, either. If they could get into mine, I'm sure my neighbor's apartment wouldn't have been much of a problem.

"We'll find something to take your mind off of it," Jackson offered and wrapped his arm around my frame, pulling me in closer to him. I tilted my head and let it rest on one his shoulders, breathing deeply for a moment. "Would it be cliche to offer to take you shopping?"

I snorted. Loudly. It's stupid and yet it made me smile anyway.

"Yes, it would," I answered. "But… most of my clothes are wrinkled. I could use a work blouse for tomorrow that isn't." I'd need to iron clothes when we got to his house, surely. But even just standing outside of my apartment, I feel like a sitting duck. My eyes darted around, expecting to see someone watching and staring at me. Instead, the only person doing it is Jackson.

"I think that can be managed. C'mon." Jackson took my duffel bag from me and interlaced our fingers together, tugging me back in the direction of his car.

I don't say a word as we drive back out to Southlake, my gaze out the window and trying to process. A part of me wanted to go back to the lab, to go through every single case that I had worked on since I'd come to Dallas. It's a short list. I'd done much more work in Seattle than I had here. I didn't think that I had worked on anything too controversial thus far while in this city but maybe I had underestimated some of the work that I had already gotten involved in.

"There's a Nordstrom Rack if you want to go there." His voice drew me back out of my thoughts and I straightened up, giving a nod of my head and trying to focus on the immediate surroundings. Getting out of the car, I realize that I'm wearing flip-flops. I laugh loudly at myself, shaking my head, nearly hysterical all too easily.

"I–I didn't pack any shoes." I realized upon staring at polished toes, my frame shaking with the wild laughter.

"Hey–hey." Jackson grabbed a hold of me, no doubt trying to make me a little more stable. "That's fine. You can buy a new pair of shoes. It's no big deal, alright? Besides, you're always wearing those little paper shoes over your feet at work, anyways. No one's going to notice." He murmured, calming me back down again.

"Okay. Okay." I repeated the syllables, taking an unsteady breath.

It doesn't take long for shopping along to find something that would be suitable for work tomorrow, not wanting to spend a lot of money at the moment. Ironing wouldn't be a problem even if it's been awhile since I've had to do it myself. Most of my work clothes get sent to the dry cleaner.

When we pull up to his house this time, I can't find it in myself to say a word when his dog ran up to greet the both of us, jumping up on each of us briefly before settling down again. I moved past Brody without an affectionate greeting, setting my stuff down in the guest bedroom. I pause in there for a moment, taking a few slow and deep breaths, checking my appearance in the mirror and making sure I don't look like a complete mess.

Of course, I do. I fix the smudges of makeup between my eyes and swear up and down for a brief moment about the fact that I had been out in public looking like this. My hair's all too frizzy from letting it air dry and I braid it quickly, hoping that would make it a little better for work tomorrow.

A part of me just wanted to stay in the guest room and stretch out on the bed until I eventually fall asleep and worry about everything else tomorrow. Specifically, because I knew there wouldn't be quite as much time to worry about it when there are things to do at work. If I could put it off until I knew exactly what had happened, then hopefully it would all be a little bit easier to deal with and process.

Before I have to make up my mind, Jackson knocked on the door.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"Sure," I murmured, raising up my head to see him.

Jackson looked at me for a moment before kicking off his shoes and plopping down on the bed next to me without saying another word. I adjust myself so that I'm pressed up against him, my head resting on top of his clavicle.

"Will you just lay with me for awhile?" I requested, looking up at him and fluttering my eyelashes for extra effect. He gave a small nod of his head and I turned to face him completely, wrapping an arm around his abs. He returned the affection easily.

It's the only way that I'm able to fall asleep comfortably. That much I know to be a fact.

But before the sunlight even has the chance to stream inside of the bedroom or my alarm blares off, one of our phone rings and wakes the both of us up. I groan and squint at the time on the clock, my stomach rumbling as I realized we'd never had the chance to actually eat. I regret it instantly but try to listen in on his phone call. Before I can decipher too much, my own phone rings. Both of us receiving calls at an odd time of the night could only mean one thing.

"Dr. Kepner," I answered, trying not to sound completely exhausted.

Another body had been found downtown. Likely to the same suspect as the one that had been found on Friday. It's an accelerated timetable, far too close together. Committing a murder was a lot of work, a lot of planning. Having two bodies drop by the same guy in such a close time span is an anomaly.

We drive together. There's no point in wasting the gas. It's just shy of five in the morning which means that there's not a bit of traffic on the road and we get there in no time. There's no point in conversing much. I'm exhausted but grateful for the distraction of a new case.

Until we actually get there.

I don't talk to anyone until I actually get to the body and pull back the sheet. There's an eerie resemblance to the body that had been discovered on Friday. Bright red hair, clearly not natural. Another letter was carved inside of the abdomen.

_P._

But it's not the only thing that disturbed me. I recognized the clothes that the victim was wearing – a floral button down and pants that appear to be a little too small around the waist to fit, and even a bit short. They're not buttoned. I moved to check the seam of the leg, seeing that it's been tailored specifically – but not to fit the woman who's currently wearing them.

They're my clothes.

"J–Jackson." I stuttered out as I straightened up, stumbling back and away from the body. "Those are my clothes. They're my pants. They're tailored to my height and that's my shirt and– they're mine. Whoever broke into my house yesterday… they did this. They dressed her in my clothes."


	7. Chapter 7

**_ JACKSON _ **

They're my clothes.

April's words cycle through my head once more as I process what she was stuttering out to me. The break-in hadn't been looking for something related to her career. It had been after something much more personal to her.

Both Shepherd and I had thought it to be weird that the first victim's hair had been dyed shortly before she had been killed, but hadn't known where to go with the particular observation. Now, the theory was much more obvious. It was meant to mirror her. The stealing of her clothes and putting it on the victim – after death, given the fact that they weren't nearly as bloody as they should have been under the circumstances. If the robbery hadn't been a threat, this was.

"Come here," I pulled her in closer to my chest, turning away and shielding her from the crime scene. "It's okay."

I can say that all I want, but I don't expect her to believe me for a second. I don't believe it myself. The victims were dyed and dressed up to look like her, and now it had become clear that the A carved into the first victim's abdomen hadn't been any kind of literary allusion or reference to adultery. The P in this victim made it clear. He was spelling out her name, targeting her directly.

"This is about me," she sobbed into my chest.

Soothing my hand over her long locks of hair, I wasn't sure what to say or to do to make her feel better. It was about her, in some way or another. That didn't mean that she was to blame for anything that had already happened, but it did mean that she was in danger, just as I suspected. I should have said something to her sooner.

Shepherd stepped over but paused when he saw her tears and me holding him. As much crap as I may have given him, he knew when to lay off, and this was one of those moments. I mouthed to him to call for another medical examiner, and he nodded, turning in the other direction and picking up his phone.

"Listen, I'm going to keep you safe, okay? I'm not going to let you be alone." I pulled away from her slightly so that I could bend down, grabbing her gaze. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you. You'll stay with me as long as you need to, okay? We can run by your place later and get some more clothes or whatever else you need. We'll have another medical examiner come in and look at the case. You don't need to be on it."

"I– no, no," April disagreed. "I need to work. Working is good for me."

"April, the victim is wearing clothes that were stolen from your house." I reminded her even though it was probably the last thing she needed to hear. "You can't work this case. You know that. It's a conflict of interest."

She stared at me with wide eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and giving in, nodding her head. I'm relieved that she doesn't put up any more of a fight about it.

"Why don't you sit in my car for a little bit, okay?" I fished my car keys out of my pocket, placing them in her hands and curling her fingers around them.

I guided her back over to my truck, opening the passenger seat for her and helping her get in. "Just stay here, okay?" I echoed the sentiment, taking her hand and kissing the back of her knuckles for a moment before shutting the door and heading back over to find Shepherd leaning over the body and examining it.

"So this is about Dr. Kepner," he assessed, looking up at me. I nodded in confirmation. "You know anything?"

I sighed. I didn't want to invade her privacy. But this was now more than about just her.

"Not that we didn't already talk about when it came to the first victim," I answered. "But… she did testify against her father. She was only a kid at the time, but apparently, it was a big deal in the family. My mom was the prosecutor on the case. I tried getting a little more information out of her, but she didn't have a lot besides what's already in the system about him." I scratched the back of my head.

"This has gotta hurt for her," Derek commented with a shake of his head.

"Yeah," I agreed. "The sooner that we find this guy, the better. For everyone."

I glanced down at the body once more, trying to see if there were any more signs or things that pointed to April. It'd be hard to move forward without an autopsy or information from crime scene investigators. I pulled the sheet back over the body to give the victim a little bit of privacy, straightening back up and glancing around, making sure that April was still sitting in the car.

"Are you guys a thing?" He asked.

"Is now really the time to be bringing that up?" I questioned incredulously.

"Yes," Derek answered shortly, straightening up himself to be on even ground with me. "Because right now, you're looking at this from the perspective of someone who cares about April. Someone who's her friend and… I'm guessing more than just that, given how attached at the hip the two of you are. You're not coming at it from the perspective of a homicide detective."

I wanted to disagree with him, but I knew that he was right. I was coming at this from a different perspective than I would have any other case. But I wasn't quite so eager to admit that to him just yet.

"Just let me talk to her about this, alright? She trusts me and this is all going to be hard enough for her as it is." I pleaded with him, raising my eyebrows.

Derek nodded his head. "Sure. But you've gotta keep your wits about you, okay?"

"Okay."

"Dr. Robbins should be here any minute to look at the body," he explained. "Why don't you go ahead and take her back to the station, see if you can get any information out of her that might help? I heard about the robbery – maybe you can take her back to her place, too, see if there's anything that they missed the first time."

"Alright," I agreed with another nod of the head. I offer a smile that resembled a grimace, walking back over to my car.

Opening up the car door, I climbed into the driver's seat and shut it, turning to look at her for a moment. Her eyes were tainted red even though they and her cheeks were dry, but the way that the ends of her shirt were bunched up around her wrists made it clear that she'd just dried her eyes. This was hitting her hard. I couldn't be surprised about that. I didn't even begin to have a clue how I would react to something like this happening.

"Why don't we head back to your place and see if there's anything else missing?" I suggested, reaching out for one of her hands and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Okay." She said quietly, not offering up anything more.

I give her another concerned glance before I put my car and start heading back over to her place. It was hard to say where this was going to go. She hadn't noticed the clothes were gone in the first place – but I couldn't blame her for that. If someone had broken into my house clearly looking for something, my wardrobe was about the last thing that I would have thought items would go missing from.

It's a short drive back over to her place from the crime scene, and she's silent throughout the majority of it. Every time that I glance over at her, she's staring at the window, far away from me. I let her sit and think.

Parking outside of her building, she doesn't initially move. Not until I walk around to the other side of the car and open her door for her, offering her my hand. She gave me a clearly forced smile and I returned it, keeping my hand connected with hers as we take the elevator up to her floor. The crime scene tape and cops are gone.

"Let's just walk through and see if there's anything else gone, okay?" I prompted her gently.

April gave a nod of her head, and I followed her as she shifted through her things. She started in her bedroom, this time. There were still blood stains and I can see her actively avoiding it. I made a mental note to myself to hire someone and see about this place getting cleaned up for her.

"It's… it's hard to tell." She muttered, moving through piles of clothes that had been yanked off hangers.

"That's okay," I offered, my voice gentle. I was using the same voice with her that I used with the family of victims. Or victims themselves. It's not intentional, but it comes out anyways. "Just do the best that you can. That's all that I'm asking."

"Okay," April muttered.

As she went through her closet, I shifted some of the sheets on her bed to cover up the blood. It wasn't a lot, but I knew that it would still get under her skin from the way that she had reacted yesterday. With folded arms, I watched as she moved through different corners and drawers of the room before she finally plopped down on the floor without saying a word.

"What's going on? Did you find something else?" I asked, moving to squat down next to her.

"No, no," she shook her head. "I just… this is a lot. This is all repeating itself."

"April, your father is dead." I reminded her firmly.

"I know." She grumbled, leaning into me.

I wrapped my arms around her frame and held her tight against me, nosing the top of her head and taking a deep breath. "I have to ask you some questions, you know that. And you know that I'm asking because I have to, not because I want to. Right?"

She nodded her head but didn't say anything further.

"Is there anyone that you know that would want to target or hurt you?" I asked slowly.

"No. Not that I know of." April answered without hesitation.

"What about your family? Have you had any contact with your mother or sisters since you've come back to Dallas?" I continued to ask, running my hand along her spine and trying to keep her calmed down.

She shook her head and leaned into me further. "No. I'm not even sure if they know that I'm back in town," she answered. "I haven't talked to any of them since I was eighteen. Do you think they have something to do with this? That they could have broken into my house and killed those women like that?" April asked.

"It's possible," I replied.

"That… that doesn't seem possible," she disagreed. "I mean, I did the first autopsy. Something like that was more than likely done by a male. Overwhelming odds, I mean. The kind of strength and brutality it took to commit that murder, it's not the way that women kill. Men are much more prone to beating and that level of violence. And women… when they kill, it's usually someone that they know. Not strangers." She rambled on. "I mean, if I thought my mom was going to kill someone, she'd probably poison them. Not do this."

I listened, sucking in a deep breath through my nose and giving a small nod of my head. "You know that I'm going to need to go and talk to them," I warned her, pulling back to look at her slightly.

"I know." She sniffled loudly. "But I can't. I can't go back and see them again. I'm not ready to."

"That's okay," I agreed. "I just need their address." I pulled out my phone, handing it to her and watching her type it in slowly.

Pocketing it once she was done, I took another deep breath. Shepherd and I would go to talk them tomorrow – or maybe just I would. It might be better if it was just me. I rubbed along the length of her spine once more before pulling away to stand back up and offering her my hand.

"Why don't you pack a few more things, and I'm going to take you back to my place, okay?" I offered.

April gave a nod of her head and I got out of the way so that she could pack another back for herself. I made sure that she at least remembered a pair of shoes this time. The less that she had to worry about right now, the better. I didn't know how to eradicate the biggest problem that she was dealing with right now, but at least I could offer her a safe place to stay and some kind of sense of security. She deserved at least that much.

With my arm slung around her shoulders, I walked her back downstairs to my car and drive her back to my house. It's another quiet drive, longer than the first. But I am a little bit relieved when I pull up and park in the driveway, walking into her house.

I took her through my entire house and home security system, letting her know that Brody was pretty good at barking at just about anyone who happened to come by. I took her to the gun safe, letting her know the combination just in case something happened while I was gone. It's all pretty average as far as security went. Southlake was a small, affluent town. Not particularly dangerous, and certainly much safer than almost anywhere in Dallas.

"Just call me if anything happens, alright?" I reassured her once more, hesitating in the doorway.

"Okay," April said with a small nod of her head.

Shutting the front door, I pause and listen to her lock it and set the alarm. Then I get in my truck, pulling out my phone and pulling up the address that she had typed into my phone. It's on the outskirts of the city, a bit of a drive.

This wasn't going to be a good conversation, I knew that ahead of time. April had made her distaste for the rest of her family clear and my mother had made it equally clear that the family wasn't one that I needed to get involved with. I believed that she was right about the rest of her family, even if she hadn't been right about April.

Pulling out my phone, I hesitate for a brief moment. I'd already gotten my mom more involved with this case than what I probably should have. But I didn't want to go in blind. Quickly clicking on her name, I listen to the phone ring.

"Jackson?" My mom answered on the other line. "It's early for you to be calling."

"I know, I'm working a case right now," I answered, glancing in my rearview mirror a moment. "The one I called you about earlier this week? They dropped another body. I know that you're not a fan of April but right now it seems like she's the target. They've dyed her hair, dressed her up, and this body had the letter P carved into it." I explained before she could get in jabs about April as a person.

"Hm," she hummed on the other end. "Well, what do you need me for?"

"I'm going out to meet with April's mom right now," I informed her. "I was wondering if there was anything that you could tell me about her before I get there."

She sighed loudly. "Karen Kepner… that woman is a piece of work. I doubt that there's any information you're going to get out of her, baby. She's probably going to slam that door in your face and refuse to talk to you unless you throw her over your shoulder and drag her down to the instinct. She said that she would go to the grave loving and protecting her husband, and I don't doubt her for a minute."

"Were you able to get anything from her during her husband's investigation?" I asked.

"Hardly," she answered. "April's testimony was what made the case. When she showed up to testify at his trial, it was clear that Karen had hit her the night before trying to get her to stay quiet."

I stalled for a moment, caught off guard by the information. "She never said anything like that."

"Well, I'm not surprised that she's quiet about everything she's been through," my mom said. "You said that it seemed like April was the target? You're taking care of her, aren't you? I know I said that I didn't want you involved, but she doesn't deserve to have anything like this happen to her."

"Yeah," I answered. "She's staying with me until we can figure this all out. Someone broke into her house and posed the most recent victim in her clothes."

"Wow." Mom uttered.

"I know… listen, Mom, I'm almost there so I've got to go. But let me know if you remember anything later about this, okay? Right now, Shepherd and I are running around in circles, trying to figure out what's going on. I don't want any more bodies to drop and April's still got three more letters in her name."

"Whatever you need, honey," she agreed easily. "I'm here to help."

We both exchanged our goodbyes and I hang up, setting my phone down in the cup holder by the center console. It's not a conversation that I'm looking forward to and now with the information that April's mother had been nearly as bad as her father, I have no idea how the hell I'm going to approach her with an even head, with anything less than absolute bias. But I'd have to figure it out, one way or another.

When I finally arrive at the address that April had given me, it's a beaten down looking house, dead grass out front and clearly peeling paint. It looked like the house hadn't been taken care of for years, much less inhabited. But I trusted her to have given me the right address.

Walking up to the door, I knock loudly and call out to identify myself.

"What do you want? I'm not buying anything." An older woman's voice croaked out on the other side, the front door opening but a screen door still separating us. She's at least in her late fifties, hair that had probably been a bright red once… this was definitely Karen. I held up my badge so she could see it.

"Detective Jackson Avery, Dallas Police. I'm investing a string of homicides." I informed her.

"And what does that have to do with me?" She snapped.

"You're Karen Kepner, correct? Wife of Joseph Kepner?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows.

Her nose curled up, sighing noisily at me. "Yes, that's me. And he is dead and has been for years, so I don't know why you're showing up at my door acting like there's anything that I can do for you."

"The killer that we're searching for right now bears some semblance to your husband's murders," I informed her, taking a deep breath to keep myself calm. "And it appears that he's been targeting one of your daughters, April. Have you had contact with her recently?"

"No," Karen answered quickly. "I haven't seen that devil girl in years, nor do I want to. No sense of loyalty, that one. I have no idea how I managed to give birth to such a disappointment of a child."

I bite my tongue, wanting to defend her. "And what about your other daughters?"

"They are all fine young women and have nothing to do with anything that you're talking about. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do." She said quickly, stepping back and gripping the door.

"Mrs. Kepner–" I stepped forward and placed my hand on her house, pleading with her. "Please, if there's anything that you know that you aren't telling me, this could save your daughter's life."

"April is no daughter of mine. I want nothing to do with her and she can rot in Hell, for all I care."

Before I could get another word out, the door was slammed directly in my face. So my mom had been right about that much. I stood there for a moment as if she might change her mind, shaking my head to myself. A dead end. Her answers hadn't been helpful and who knew if she was actually telling the truth, but at least she had confirmed that she hadn't had any communication with April over the years, though.

But it seemed like I was going to have to talk to the sisters, too.

I get into my truck and make the drive back to the police station, restless about the lack of information in the case thus far. The first two bodies had been dumped in a relatively short time span which meant we didn't have a lot of time to catch him before another woman ended up dead.

When I arrive back at the station, Shepherd is nowhere to be seen down in the bullpen. It feels weird rushing down to autopsy knowing that April isn't going to be there, but I do it anyways.

Shepherd and Robbins, whom I only ever seen once in a blue moon, are both already hunched over the fresh body. It's a little soon for some results to be back, but there's still always information to be gathered off of the preliminary analysis.

"Hey," I greeted each of them with a nod. "How's it going?"

"I was going over Dr. Kepner's notes about the first victim, and I have no doubt that this is the same man. Her hair was dyed shortly before death. It's messy, too. There are spots of dye behind her ears and on the back of her neck. Cause of death is the same as the first victim – she bled out." The medical examiner rambled on, glancing up at me and forcing a smile.

"Any DNA evidence on the body?" I asked.

"None so far," Shepherd answered for her.

"There is something different about this victim than the last, though," Robbins said, straightening up as she placed down the instrument in her hand.

I raised my eyebrows. "What's that?"

"It looks like she came from a different social class than the first victim. The first looked like a prostitute, but she clearly isn't one." The blonde pulled open the victim's mouth, indicating her teeth and gums. "Clearly she has dental work, likely orthodontics as well. Dental cap in the back. We're running her dental record through the system right now and looking for a match."

I nodded, holding back a sigh. Before Shepherd or I could ask any more questions about the victim, her computer let out a ding, indicating there was results or matches for something. I looked at her with raised eyebrows until she spoke again.

"We just got a match on her dental records," she motioned me over.

I stepped around as she pulled up the information about the victim, looking at it myself. The photo was of a blonde woman, but it was no doubt the same as the one laying on the table.

"Cassandra Jones, thirty-two years old. She worked as a market research analyst at Pepsico." She rattled off seamlessly.

"Thanks," I gave her a quick smile. "I'm gonna run upstairs and see if I can get some more information on the victim." I let the both of them know.

As I walked back upstairs to the bullpen to get to my computer, I pulled my phone out of the pocket. I hadn't heard from April and while that was probably a good thing, I still wanted to check in and make sure that everything was alright with her.

_[Sent] Everything alright?_

Waiting for the text back, I quickly begin to search up and find as much information on the victim as I can. From all outside appearances, she seemed to be completely normal. A Dallas native, high school and college graduate, she'd been working in Pepsico for the last five years. My phone buzzed, distracting me away from Cassandra for a moment.

_[Received] Yeah. I took a bath in your tub. I hope that's okay._

I chuckled to myself.

_[Sent] It's fine, take care of yourself._

I paused for a moment and glanced back at my screen, staring at the driver's license photo of the victim. Whoever the killer was, it was obvious that he had gone to extreme lengths to make sure that the resemblance to April was known.

_[Sent] Does the name Cassandra Jones sound familiar? It's our victim._

The message is sent on impulse and I wait for the little bubble to appear indicating that she was writing a response, letting out a sign when the next text message popped up on my screen.

_[Received] I'm pretty sure I went to high school with one. The grade below._

Based on the age of April and the victim, it made sense that they could have gone to high school together. It was just one more connection between the two of them. I sent another text, this time to Shepherd, giving him the information that she had just given me. This case was getting more and more intertwined with her life.

I stayed for a little while longer, digging up as much information on the victim as I can. The first hadn't had nearly as much to find outside of her previous arrest record for prostitution. This was looking to be much more resemblant of April's life, ignoring her parents.

But I don't want to stay too late, not with April alone at my house. After a couple more hours, I get into my car and head back home. By the time that I get there, I find myself surprised by the state of my house. More specifically, there's a very familiar car parked outside of my house, but one that I had not anticipated actually being there. I paused after parking for a moment, taking a deep breath before getting out and heading in.

"Mom?" I questioned, opening up the front door to see her and April sitting on my couch. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just catching up," she gave me a smile, looking over her shoulder at me.

"It's okay, Jackson," April chimed in before I could get anything else out. "I invited her."


	8. Chapter 8

**_ APRIL _ **

"I invited her," I explained to Jackson, noting his shocked expression.

I hadn't seen Catherine Avery in about two decades. She looked nearly the same as she had when we first met, I thought. I'd idolized her then, really. She was the only one who took me seriously, the only one who thought that I was doing the right thing at the time and that I wasn't a disgrace to my family. She had tried to get me relocated, tried to find my mother unfit, but it had fallen flat. I didn't blame her for that, though. I still admired the hell out of her.

Finding her number had been quite easy, though. I hadn't wanted to go through Jackson's personal items to find it so it'd taken a quick Google search to find her office number and get patched through to her directly. My name had been enough to get her on the phone.

"Why? What's going on?" Jackson questioned.

"Nothing is wrong, Jackson," Catherine interjected. "Why don't you just sit down, hm? We just opened a bottle of wine. Grab a glass and join us." She suggested, waving toward the empty spot on the couch next to me.

He followed the suggestion and I picked up my own poured glass from the coaster on the table, taking a long swallow from the glass and becoming quiet until he sat down next to me.

"I invited her over because I… got a little antsy being here alone and I didn't want to distract you from the case," I began to explain. "I thought that given everything going on, it might be good to talk. See if there's something that I've forgotten over the years. I thought seeing your mother again might help to bring up some of those memories, if there are any to be brought up."

"Huh." He huffed out, staring at me with furrowed brows. "Has anything come up?"

"Not yet," I answered with a shake of my head.

"I visited your mother today," Jackson started, glancing at me and Catherine for a moment. "You were right, Mom. Didn't get anything from her. But I don't think she's behind all of this. She's small. No way she's capable of that kind of brutality." He continued.

"But that doesn't mean she doesn't know who did it," Catherine added.

I shrank uncomfortably back against the sofa, picking up the glass of wine and choosing to stare at it instead. Even if I was only related to them by blood, something that I had no choice in the matter, and had pushed them away as quickly as possible… it's an uncomfortable conversation. I can't help but feel responsible for everything happening in some kind of way. Even if I wasn't doing it myself, even if I couldn't stop it, I was still the cause one way or another. It wouldn't happen if I didn't exist.

"Are you okay?" Jackson placed his hand on my knee.

"Yeah," I muttered, taking a long sip from the glass of wine. "Just thinking, that's all." I tried to brush off his concern and gave a weak smile.

"I think it's worth getting in contact with those sisters of yours. Especially Libby. She was a nuisance back then and I'm willing to bet that hasn't changed." Catherine commented, a frown drawing across her features.

Jackson says something and I can feel myself withdrawing from the conversation. But instead of staring at the glass of wine, I pull out my phone and open up Facebook, typing in my older sister's name. It's easy to recognize her after all the years, her hair just as bright and thick as it had always been. She'd been the most beautiful out of all us when we were young. There's a boy her profile picture – a teenager. She was a few years older than me. She must have had him shortly after I had left home.

I scroll through what information is available given her privacy settings, but it was mostly just profile pictures. Her son looked more like our father than it did her. It's uncomfortable to stare at and yet I can't stop.

"April?" Jackson said my name and gave my leg a little shake, grabbing my attention.

"Huh?"

"You disappeared there for a minute," he observed.

I offered an apologetic smile, unsure what to say. "Sorry," I passed my phone over to him so he could see what I was looking at himself, not wanting to have to explain it.

"So Libby has a kid. Huh." Jackson commented, passing it over to his mother.

"And he looks exactly like Joseph did," Catherine added, confirming what I had been thinking. At least I knew that it wasn't just paranoia. "I'm sure that she's the same kind of mother that you had. Jackson, you should talk to her. If anyone in April's family is going to have an idea of who's doing this, it's her."

"Probably," I breathed out in quiet agreement, giving a slight nod of the head. "I'm just not ready for her or anyone else to know that I'm here. You didn't say anything to my mom, did you?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at Jackson.

He shook his head. "No, of course not."

"You need to keep a low profile until this is all figured out, sweetheart," Catherine offered up. Her voice was soft – maternal. I barely remember seeing this side of her as a child, so much of it had been blocked out, even with therapy. But I can see why Jackson spoke so highly of her. "It's good that you're staying here. I know my Jackson will take care of you."

Even though it's nasty, I can feel jealousy stirring in my stomach with the kindness in her eyes as she looked at her son. She must have been an amazing mother. My own had been happier to pretend that I didn't exist from the time that my father had gone to jail, to the day that I had left. She'd never wanted my phone number or address. She had never tried to figure out what was going on in my life. For all I knew, she had spent the past two decades wishing I was dead. And now there was someone else who wanted me dead.

"He's been great," I commented softly, unable to get anything else out and setting my head on top of his. "Really, really kind. Even before all of this started up."

It's hard to hide how fond of him I was. Jackson was the first person that I had been able to open up to in years. I couldn't explain what the connection was but something about him just felt right, it felt natural to be around him. It's silly. I'm a woman of science. I don't believe in soulmates or love at first sight. Attraction, sure, but not romantic love. All of it felt ridiculous and I couldn't explain it, yet it was still how I felt.

"You deserve to have someone looking out for you," Jackson said.

Catherine continued the conversation for a moment but I struggled to listen to either of them.

I didn't deserve it, not really. Jackson had been nothing but kind and I didn't deserve any of it. Two women were now dead because of me. Given the rate at which he was killing and the lack of solid leads that we had at the moment, it was likely that those wouldn't be the only two.

And it was my fault. There was no one else to blame for it. There's the idea that I had saved more women's lives by testifying against my father, especially since evidence back then hadn't had the same reliability that it did now. I had been a kid then, just doing what I thought was the right thing, the Christian thing, even if the ones who had raised me disagreed.

Now I'm an adult woman, and I know better. I know right and wrong, I know how to make hard decisions that are for the better of society even if they come at a great personal cost. I'd been making those decisions for a long time, and yet even now, I still fault myself. I could have gone about it a different way. I could have figured out a better way to handle things with my family. Even if I don't blame them now for what was going on, I have to wonder… if I had handled things differently, would these women be dead? Or was that bound to happen regardless, just because I was alive?

"Excuse me," I said suddenly, lurching off the couch and setting down the glass of wine.

Nearly running to his upstairs bathroom so I can't be overheard, I hold back my hair and lurch over the toilet, emptying out the few contents of my stomach. It's mostly wine and crackers but it still felt disgusting coming up. As soon as I can, I flush the toilet, wiping down the seat and my mouth.

I turn on the sink faucet and run it for a moment, splashing some cool water on my face and taking a few deep breaths. I rinse out my mouth and turn it off, straightening up and just letting the water drip off.

"Apes?" Jackson called out quietly, giving a slight knock on the bathroom door.

I hesitated, taking a deep breath. "You can come in."

The door opened and I watched him appear in the reflection of the mirror, glancing at myself for a brief moment. I look pale. Paler than usual, at least. But that was the only real indication that something was wrong.

"Are you okay?" He asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Not really," I admitted, knowing that I wouldn't be able to get away with a lie right now.

"What can I do?" He bent down, resting his chin on top of my head and wrapping his arms around me from behind. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes leaning back into the embrace slightly.

"Just be you, please." I murmured.

The both of us just stand there for a moment and I'm grateful that he's there. I don't know who else could have possibly been here for me in this way. I had never really had someone like this, not someone who both accepted me and knew the dark details of where I came from. He knew and was actively involved, and yet he hadn't been sent running in the opposite direction yet.

"Is your mom still here?" My eyes opened back up, looking at him through the mirror.

"Mmhm," Jackson barely nodded, chin pressing into the top of my head slightly.

I reached up, placing my hand on the back of his head and rubbing it gently. "Let's go back downstairs. I don't want to worry her about any of this." She had been kind enough to me, to my face, after all. I wanted to try and return that to her.

We both headed back downstairs after I pat my face dry with a hand towel. Catherine was patient, but I don't doubt that she's aware that I'm teetering on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Thank you for coming over, Catherine," I offered sincerely, giving her a smile.

"I don't mind in the slightest." She said. "I know you're not like the rest of your family."

Even if I'm sure that it's not the intention, tears swell up in my eyes as I deepened the smile across her expression. I adored Jackson, but it means more coming from someone who actually knew my family. "Thank you," I expressed sincerely.

Catherine stepped forward, clasping one of my hands with both of hers and squeezing it. "I mean it. And if my son here isn't treating you right, you let me know and his momma will take care of it."

"Alright, alright," Jackson stepped in at that particular comment, and I let out a laugh.

"He's been doing a good job so far," I glanced back at him with a smile. "He's a good man. I happen to like him a lot." I hadn't said the words out loud just yet, nor anything stronger, but it felt right at the moment. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed of saying it right in front of his mom.

"He is a good man," Catherine agreed easily. "And I want the both of you to keep me in the loop about this case, okay? I'm going to go through my old case files again, see if anything comes to mind." She promised.

Jackson walked his mother out to the door and the car, and I found myself collapsing down on the sofa. I'm torn between wanting nothing more than to be alone and being scared of being alone. I'd gotten so comfortable with being on my own over the years that it was what came naturally to me.

Yet I know that I'm not exactly the best at self-defense. I took one class back in college but that'd been over ten years ago. Jackson had shown me the ins and outs of his guns, but I don't have one of my own. I'd never wanted one. There's no waiting in period Texas and my background was clean if I wanted to get one, but it still doesn't settle right with me. That's not the solution. The only thing that was going to make me sleep well at night was knowing that whoever was doing this was behind bars.

But it's hard to cling to that idea when I can't be the one working the case. I wanted to be down in the medical examiner's office and performing the autopsies. I'd met Dr. Robbins once in person and I'm sure that she was sufficient, but I still wanted to do it myself.

"Alright, it's just the two of us now," Jackson announced as he walked back in, shutting and locking the front door and turning on the alarm system. "Three if you count Brody."

"I do," I barely let out a chuckle, giving a shrug of my shoulders.

He sat down on the sofa next to me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me against him. "Are you sure there's nothing that I can do for you right now?" He asked.

"I'm just tired," I muttered with a shake of my head and let out a sigh. "I want to know who's doing this and I want him jail. I don't like having to look over my shoulder and wonder if it's safe for me to just go outside. I hate this." I let myself ramble on, but getting it out doesn't make me feel better about any of it.

"We're doing everything that we can." Jackson reminded me gently, his hand soothing up and down my arm. "I promise, April, we're going to find this guy."

"I believe you," I murmured. "I just wanna skip time to the point where you've got him."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" He chuckled, kissing the top of my head.

A tear slipped out of my eye and I blink, trying to keep any more from coming. Brody jumped up on the couch next to the two of us, nosing each of us for a moment, searching for attention. I welcome him for a moment, ruffling his fur and letting him like my face without complaining about it. The salt in my tears was probably what he was going after.

"Good boy," I murmured, continuing to pet along his fur.

The two (or well, three) of us continue to sit on his couch for just a few minutes and relax there, trying to let go some of the tensions of the day. I can't entirely remove it from my shoulders, though. It's hard to get rid of everything going on in my head.

"I'm exhausted," I finally commented after a while, pulling back to look at him.

"Me too," Jackson admitted with a huff of laughter. "We've got a long day tomorrow."

"You do," I specified with a shake of her head. "I don't know if they'll even let me take a peak in the lab."

"Maybe not, but I'm sure you're going to try anyway." He commented.

"Probably," I shrugged. Slowly getting up and off the couch, I give Brody a quick kiss on the head, and Jackson one on the cheek. "I'm going to try and get some sleep. Thanks for letting me stay here."

Heading upstairs to his guest bedroom, I put away some of the clothes that I had brought over, hanging up a few in hopes that they won't be completely wrinkled for tomorrow. I'd likely have to iron some of it, but it could wait. I go through a normal bedtime routine quickly, brushing my teeth and slathering some moisturizer on my face. I even pop a pill of melatonin, hoping that it will actually work some kind of magic on me.

But of course, it doesn't.

The bed and sheets are both comfortable, and I adjust myself multiple times, trying to find a position that sleep will overtake me in. Left side, right side, flat on my back… nothing gets me to fall asleep. I twisted and stretch out in every way, I hold an extra pillow between my legs and nothing. All I can do is stare at the darkness of the rooms, the fan spinning over the bed, trying to get it to hypnotize me into falling asleep. But lack of success continued again and again. Nothing.

Instead of counting sheep, though, all I can see is the two women who had already died because of me. I can see my apartment torn apart, my poor cat. Peace seemed to be the last thing that my mind was willing to bring me at the moment.

After half an hour of restless tossing and turning, I finally get up, not able to lay there any longer without driving myself crazy. I slowly pad down the hallway, not wanting to disturb the dog or Jackson just yet, peeking into his bedroom. He doesn't wake up when I crack open the door.

He's actually asleep. I feel bad for a moment, considering if I should turn back around. But I don't. Instead, I quietly walk into his room, gently tapping on his shoulder.

"Hmm?" Jackson grumbled, squinting one eye open at me.

"Is it okay if I sleep in here?" I requested, feeling like a child.

"What? Yeah, of course." He scooted back from the edge of the bed, patting the new space that he had just made. "C'mon, lay right down."

I lowered myself into the bed next to him, laying flat on my back. I normally liked to sleep on my side, but I still feel like even with him right next to me, I'm not going to be able to get any sleep. Jackson slung an arm around slightly, not intruding too much on me, but his hand rested on my stomach. He was sleeping shirtless and heat radiated from his body.

It's a weird mixture of restlessness and content laying there. Chewing on my lower lip, I try not to shift myself too much, not wanting to disturb him. But it's hard to just lay still.

"Jackson?" I whispered softly, testing to see if he was still awake.

"Yeah?" He responded.

"Thank you," I murmured, turning on my side so that I can face him more directly, an arm wrapping around his waist to help me anchor myself closer to him. "For everything."

"You don't need to thank me," Jackson murmured, drawing his chin down his chest and looking better at me.

I shifted upward toward him, pressing my lips against his. My jaw bumped into his, scratched barely by the stubble growing out on him. But he's warm and safe all the time, and it's an easy shift to get one leg across his body, pulling myself over so that I'm sitting on top of his lap.

A hand moved to the back of my neck and pulled me in closer, and I subconsciously ground against him. The other hand moved to my lower back, pulling me against him, getting rid of the space between us. My nipples hardened and I had to wonder if he could feel it against his bare chest. It's a little resemblant of being like two horny teenagers but even better. We're adults. He knows how to kiss me and I know how to move on top of him.

His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Feeling his evident arousal against my dampening core, I knew exactly what I wanted. So did he. It's a few awkward movements, getting rid of my pajama shorts and panties.

He slipped a finger inside of me and I bit back a low moan. Jackson began to kiss and suck along the curve of my neck while a second finger strokes gently at my folds before gliding easily inside. My walls stretched to accommodate the scissoring digits inside of me, finding that particular spot inside that made me keen. I threaded my fingers through his short, tight curls, needing something to hold onto. Whimpering when he pulled his fingers out of me, the sound was quickly swallowed by a kiss, desperate and heated.

"Are you ready?" Jackson questioned, nipping at my lower lip.

"Condom." I reminded him.

He reached over toward his nightstand, fumbling a moment to pull open a drawer and grab a plastic sleeve. I take it from him, ripping it open and rolling the latex onto his thick length.

Taking his cock in hand, Jackson thrust upward into me and we both moaned lewdly at how wickedly delicious he felt. He paused to let me adjust and I took a moment before I lifting up my hips and sinking back down onto him. I set a slow pace, not wanting to rush this. I splayed my hands across his chest, thumbing his nipples for a moment. His fingers outlined each dip curve of my body, almost tickling my ribs.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. I leaned down, placing my hands on either side of his head and changing the angle of him inside of me, kissing him.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time," I admitted sheepishly, smiling down at him.

"Me too," he returned the sentiment.

Before I could speak again, Jackson adjusted and took a hard nipple into my mouth, nipping at it with his teeth and sucking gently. It's too much for me to be able to think straight, feeling his tongue swirl around the sensitive nub.

The sound of their joined bodies making loud slapping noises filled the room and I pick up the pace of bouncing on top of him, rolling my hips and letting out a few swear words exclusively reserved for moments like these. The noises that I'm making only pick up when he adjusted and his thumb found my clit, beginning to spin quick and tight circles over it.

My back arched and I gripped onto the bed sheets even tighter, a few more moments passing before an orgasm finally rushed over me, my inner walls clamping down around him tighter. I let out a whimper and moan as I finally unraveled. Moments later, Jackson came undone. I can feel him twitch inside of me, hips giving a few jerks. As I caught my breath again, I rolled off of him, collapsing again onto my back and letting out a huff of air, letting him get rid of the used condom.

I turned toward him, caressing his face as if this was something I did often, without even a sliver of uncertainty. I knew Jackson was going to accept her as he always had, placing his rough broad palm atop her smaller one.

"I trust you," I whispered, unable to get the words out any louder than that.

"I trust you too." He said simply.

"No, I really trust you. That's… that's everything to me, Jackson. I haven't been able to trust anyone but myself since I was a child." The words pour out of my lips, eyes tearing up unintentionally. Admitting that I trusted him was more, was harder than admitting something like love. It really was everything to me.

Jackson leaned closer to me, sealing another kiss on top of my lips.

This time when I roll onto my side up against him, I let him spoon me. It was nice to let someone else take the reigns, to be taken care of and supported. His nose was pressed against the back of my neck and I could feel him breathing until he fell asleep. Shortly after, I drift off.

When I sleep, I dream. I've always been a vivid dreamer and nights that I take melatonin mean that I dream even more than usual, something about regulating the sleep cycle. But dreams are nightmares, usually. Dead people. I was never able to get rid of them, whether I was awake or alive. But this time the women in my dreams look just like me. I was the target of other living people. Why wouldn't I be a target inside of my own head?

At least when I wake up intermittently throughout the night, I'm reminded that he's there. That there's someone else looking out for me, and I'm as alone in the world as I think I am.

His alarm blared off shortly before seven in the morning and wakes the both of us up, me more permanently. By the time it's the morning, we're no longer cuddled up against each other, and the bed sheets had been kicked onto the floor. That's more than likely my own fault.

"Morning," he greeted, kissing my cheek before getting out of bed. I admire his bare rear a moment.

"Morning," I muttered, rubbing the back of my eyes.

"I'm going to take a shower. I'll be quick."

I nodded my head and laid back down on his bed for a moment, stretching out my arms and back. I'm tired enough that I consider drifting back to sleep as I listen to the shower turn on, but before I get the chance, his phone is ringing. I peak over, realizing it's Shepherd. Surely it's okay for me to answer.

"Hi, this is Dr. Kepner," I spoke as I picked up the phone.

"Uh– hey, Doc." Derek cleared his throat.

"Jackson is in the shower right now." I clarified before he could say anything more. "He's letting me stay with him until this is all over, remember?" I prompted, hoping to not spin any more ideas in his head.

"Yeah, yeah, got it." He answered. "Listen, we've got another body from the same guy. But uh, April, you can't come down here, alright? When Jackson's get out, tell him I'm sending the address to his phone. And tell him nothing over the radio, because it's one of our own."

I paused, processing his words. "What? Who?"

"It's uh, it's Dr. Robbins."

I stalled for a moment at his answer, sucking in a deep breath and trying to keep myself from reacting while talking over the phone. She's close to my own size, it'd be more difficult for him to tell if she was wearing my clothes. "Let me guess, her hair has been dyed red and she's got an R carved into her abdomen?" I questioned.

"That's right." He answered, letting out a sigh.

"Okay. Uh, we'll be there as soon as possible."

I hang up the phone, not giving him another chance to speak even if he had told me to stay away. I certainly wasn't going to listen to him on the matter. This was another woman that was dead because of me. And this one was striking much closer to him. Everything was getting closer and I didn't want to know where the next step was going to be.

Barging into the bathroom door, Jackson barely had the chance to get a towel wrapped around his face.

"We need to go. Now."


	9. Chapter 9

**_ JACKSON _ **

"We have more medical examiners, April, you don't need to be here." I tried to plead with her.

"I step back from the case, she ends up dead. That's not a coincidence, Jackson. That's a clear sign. I can't let anyone else get hurt because of me. I have to go. I have to be there." April rambled on emphatically, her hands moving wildly as she spoke.

"Dr. Robbins is also a woman about your age, your stature. It doesn't have to be because she took over for you. You know that." I retorted quickly, glancing over at her in the passenger seat.

"No, I don't, and neither do you." She countered quickly.

She's right, even if I don't want to admit it. It could have to do with her and it might not. Either one of us could have been right even if I was desperately hoping that I was. It's not about my ego this time, fortunately for her, it's just about keeping her safe. That had become my top priority above all else. The only way to do that was to figure out what was going on with this case and who was trying to come after her.

"I still think that you should stay in the car for this," I announced once we got there and I shifted gears into park. I don't expect her to listen, but it's at least worth giving it a shot.

"You know that I can't do that," April shook her head.

"You can, actually, you just don't want to." I pointed out, pocketing my car keys.

I glanced over at her, trying to get a better idea of what was going on inside of her head besides the obvious worry and panic over the circumstances. She doesn't look as tired as I might have expected her to be – she seemed well rested, actually, considering that we'd been up a little late and my alarm had gone off relatively early in the morning. She's beautiful, bare-faced and hair pulled back in a ponytail. But the worry still hurts to look at.

Sighing, I don't make another comment about it as she got out of the car. The apartment was currently blocked off. This was different than the last crime scenes that we'd been to. A lot more personal. It unfortunately made sense, given how much closer she was to April than the others.

"You brought her?" Derek questioned as the two of us ducked past the crime scene tape.

"Didn't have much of a choice," I breathed out, glancing over at her.

April made a beeline for the body and I resisted the temptation to step in and stop her. Another medical examiner hadn't made it to the scene yet which she had apparently taken as permission. I watched carefully as she pulled back the sheet over Dr. Robbins' body and takes a look at it, not realizing that Derek was talking to me the entire time.

"Hey, you listening to me?" Derek commented, snapping in front of my face to try and get my attention back on to him.

"Yeah, sorry," I apologized quickly, gaze snapping over. "What were you saying?"

"Neighbors said they heard someone coming in late last night, but security cameras show her coming home around seven. Didn't show anyone else entering or exiting the lobby." Shepherd repeated what he had said before.

"So he came in another way. Let's check windows, fire escape, anything else," I listed off with a sigh.

Derek paused a moment before asking a more personal question. "Is she doing okay?"

"Would you be?" I countered, frown mustering across my features. "She's holding it together. But it's not easy. I can't tell if she's more worried about herself or the other women who are getting hurt, but it really seems like the latter." I continued to speak.

"Selfless woman," he remarked with a nod of her head. "Impressive. I don't know if Mer or I would have the same reaction."

"I don't know if I would either," I admitted with a slight shrug of the shoulders.

I leave him there to talk with the crime scene technicians for a moment to walk back over to April, scanning over the body. It's weird to see a coworker like that – especially a medical examiner. As a police officer, there's a bit of an expectation, a knowledge that more than likely, one day, you're going to see one of your own fallen in the line of duty.

But I never really thought about the other people that were involved in the process. Medical examiners, forensic analysts, crime scene technicians… they all took a bit of a back burner when it came to who tended to be in immediate danger. But an exception had been made.

April was squatted down next to her body, arms resting on her knees, blank. It was surprisingly hard to read her face. I frowned, staring at her for a minute, trying to find the words to say. But there was nothing to suffice a moment like this one.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, chewing on my lower lip as I examined her.

"I don't know," April sighed out with a shake of her head. "I mean, it's obviously the same guy. A part of me is glad there are only two more letters in my name. At least that's something."

"Yeah, we got that," I agreed quietly, reaching out and placing a hand on top of one of hers. I gave it a slight squeeze. "What about the clothes? Are they yours?" I raised my eyebrows.

She shook her head.

"That's something else. She was redressed after she was killed, right? There's not enough blood on her blouse. At the pace that he's going, it's pretty likely that he's going to slip up and make a mistake somewhere. He might have left DNA somewhere." I spoke quickly, trying to give her a little something to have hope about.

"Yeah, maybe," she breathed out quietly.

I straightened up slowly and offered my hand to her. She stared at it for a moment before taking it and straightening back up herself, glancing around. It was a bit messy, but it was hard to say whether or not it was because of the killer or if that was just her house.

"Why don't you get out of here, okay?" I reached into my pocket, taking out my car keys and offering them to her. "Go back to my place. Clear your head."

"You need a medical examiner." April reminded me, shaking her head.

"And Dallas is a big county. We have another medical examiner that we can call. Male, actually, so I think that the chances of this guy going after him are pretty low comparatively." I reminded her.

She sighed. "No. I need to do this. I need to find this guy and– I need to."

I stared at her with a frown for a moment, watching as she squatted back down slowly and opened up her medical examiner bag. I hadn't noticed that she brought it in the first place – she must have managed to sneak it past me in the morning haze before coffee. Of course she had.

Not wanting to get over her way, I walk around the crime scene a little bit more, speaking with one of the crime scene technicians. So far, no sign of DNA evidence had been found. It wasn't promising but there was still a chance.

For a brief moment, I catch myself just staring out the window of the apartment. It isn't much of a view of the city. Downtown, much else wasn't to be expected. I could see April's apartment building from here. Not her exact window, it faced a different viewpoint, but it's still the building. For the most part, it was just another high rise. Nothing particularly unique about it. But I understand the target. It was representative of April – beyond a physical representation. The hair and clothes didn't matter, but her job, her status, her home… that was what he was going for now.

Even if I hadn't been on homicide long, I don't usually get sick to my stomach despite the gory, horrific things that it required seeing. Yet at the moment, I can feel myself growing nauseous.

Moving back over toward her, I let out a quiet sigh.

"How are things going?" I asked April.

"Time of death is around midnight," she sat back on her heels for a moment. "We were having sex and she was here getting killed. Doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"You can't blame yourself for this." I retorted quickly, a frown drawing my features. "Nothing you could have done differently in the past twenty-four hours would have stopped this, okay? You can't blame yourself for what he's doing any more than you can for what your father did."

Even with the words coming out, though, I can tell that she doesn't believe me entirely. I don't really expect her to, either. If the tables were turned, I couldn't guarantee that I would believe her either.

"It still doesn't feel right," April muttered under her breath as she stood back up.

"I know," I gave a quick, sympathetic nod of the head. "But right now, all we can do is focus on keeping you safe. That's my priority," I reminded her softly.

Hunt had shown up while I was looking at the rest of the crime scene.

"Go back to the lab. Get started on the autopsy as soon as you can." I gave her a soft smile, hoping that it would ease her nerves but I knew it wasn't likely to have as much of an effect as I was taking. I handed her my truck keys. "I'll get a ride with Shepherd. Take my truck. And call me if you find anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on."

Even though the two of us are in public and no one really knew about the extent of our relationship together, I bend down and give her a sweet kiss on the lips. She froze for only a brief moment before returning it.

Cupping her cheek gently, my thumb brushed along her cheekbone, admiring her for a moment. Without the makeup on, I can see the freckles that are littered across her cheeks and nose. "Take care of yourself, please." I reminded her, brows furrowed together with concern.

"I will." April stretched up, giving me one more kiss before pulling away.

I watched her walk off with Hunt for a moment, muttering something about the body. I knew that she was going to get started on the autopsy as soon as possible, that she was obsessed with figuring this case out so the both of us would be able to rest easy again at night. That was all I wanted – or her to be able to keep going through life without having to constantly look over her shoulder. To be able to be in the city without having to regret coming back. I wanted her to be happy here. Preferably, with me.

At this point, I imagined that she had to regret coming back. With everything that had happened since it made perfect sense. But even with the bodies that had been dropped by whoever was obsessed with her, I was glad that she was her. I was glad that I had the chance to meet her.

Although I had been in a few relationships in the past, some more serious than the others, I'd never felt the way about April that I had anyone else. I had only known her for a few weeks now and yet… something about the relationship between the two of us had clicked seamlessly. I wanted to be with her, I wanted to be around her and no one else. This was the way that relationships were meant to be. This was how you were supposed to feel about someone that you loved. I may not have known a lot about love, but I at least knew that much.

"Hey, we've got something." One of the crime scene techs called out, pulling my attention away from my thoughts.

Stepping over toward the younger male, he's holding something between a pair of tweezers. I squint, barely able to make it out. It was a hair.

"Thank god," I muttered, breathing out the words.

"Bag it and let's get it to the lab as soon as possible. Put a rush on it." Shepherd spoke, glancing over at me.

"That's a start," I let myself smile for a brief moment. It wasn't a guarantee that we would find a match, but it was better than nothing. A lot better than what we had before.

Derek and I spend a few minutes longer at the crime scene before we head back to the police station. The air is a little heavy given that it's always odd when someone in the department is taken out in a way like this. It's unusual, and a reminder of everything that stood at stake. The last thing I wanted was for a repeat of it to happen with April on the table.

When we get back and settled into the station, photos of the most recent crime scene were pinned up against the prior ones, seeing the striking similarities. If two more bodies managed to be dropped, I couldn't begin to imagine what the plan for the killer was after that. Would he continue onto her last name? Would he go after her himself?

The question looked in my mind, hating how likely the latter was. She couldn't get hurt.

Against my better judgment, I pull up Joseph Kepner's old case files. They weren't all digitized yet, so I had to pull out the hard copies back from when the work had been done. Most of it is still carefully documented, no likely because of how high profile the case had been at the time. But the careful details only further parallel how similar he had been and this killer was. If it weren't for the fact that Joseph Kepner was a dead man, I would have thought he had done it.

"Do you know if Webber's around?" I glanced up from the files, asking Shepherd. "He worked this case back when it was fresh. I was hoping I could pick his brain about something."

He clucked this tongue, shrugging. "If he is, he's probably in his office."

Grunting out in response, I grab the case files that I had been looking at and head upstairs to see if the older male is there. Hopefully, there would be something to gain from talking to him. To my relief, the older male was sitting behind his computer, squinting at something.

"Hey, Sergeant," I offered a smile. "You got a minute?"

"Sure," Richard motioned to the seat in front of his desk. I don't take it, setting down the files on his desk instead.

"You worked Joseph Kepner's case back when he was at large. The case Shepherd and I are working right now, it looks exactly like this guy. I mean, every nitty-gritty detail. We did finally get a hair and the lab's testing it to see if he's in the system." I explained quickly. "But right now, we've got a reason to believe that he's targeting the daughter that testified against him." I don't want to explain my personal connection to her. I'm not looking for a lecture right now. "The only difference in the crime scenes is that this new guy has been carving letters into the victim's abdomen. Spelling out her name." I added.

"Huh," he breathed out, picking up the desk and flipping through it for a moment. "And what is exactly that you need my eyes for?" He finally asked after a few long seconds, looking up at me.

"I was wondering if the detail about Joseph redressing his victims in different clothes was ever released," I asked with raised eyebrows.

Webber shook his head. "No, that never made it to the press. It was a lot easier to keep things from their knowledge back then than it is now." I already knew that was the truth. But this was something that we hadn't known before – something good and helpful.

"Thank you," I quickly grabbed the files back from him, running back downstairs to talk to Shepherd.

Once I reach the bullpen where he was going over other information, I dropped the manilla folder back down onto the table that we were sharing. Derek looked up at me expectantly.

"The detail about Joseph Kepner redressing his victims in new clothes never made it to the media in the past," I explained, sitting down in the chair across from him as I spoke. "Whoever is doing this, they have intimate details of the case that couldn't have just been learned by perusing the papers or internet when all of this was going on."

"So that takes us back to the Kepner family," he assessed.

He glanced back at the cork board that we had pinned up different photos on and my gaze followed. All of the Kepner family was there – Joseph, Karen, Libby, April, Kimmy, and Alice. April, of course, wasn't a suspect in the case. Her photograph was only up there because of the overwhelming evidence that she was a target of the killer.

Joseph was dead, and Karen had more or less been ruled out. The three sisters though were still up in the air, as was anyone that they were connected with. Two of them were married, the third engaged. I wasn't sure if April knew any of that but I had one of the other officers working the case dig into finding more information about the remainder of her biological family. The eldest was still the top pick, in my opinion, given everything that my mother had said about her during the trial and the fact that she would have the best memory about everything that her father had done. What Webber had told me only reaffirmed my suspicions of her.

"I think it's time for us to go visit Libby," I commented, glancing over at him. He nodded in agreement.

Getting her address from the database, the two of us head over in his car to the eldest Kepner sister's address. Her house is suburban, much more put together than that of Karen Kepner's. But it doesn't gain her my trust any more than the mother had. We approached the door together and I let him knock on it.

A redheaded woman, certainly Libby, opened it a few moments later. "Can I help you?" She asked.

"I'm Detective Shepherd, this is Detective Avery with the Dallas police department," Derek introduced the both of us. "Do you have a minute? We'd like to talk to you about an ongoing murder investigation."

She stared at us skeptically for a minute before opening the door wider. "Sure, come in."

We both stepped inside of her home and I instinctively looked around. April had mentioned the son but he wasn't in sight – where he was, however, was a few stray photographs on the walls and ledge of the fireplace. He seemed a little too old for the timeline that April had offered.

"What exactly do you want to know?" Libby asked, staring at the both of us.

"Where's your son?" I answered her question with my own.

"Out." She answered shortly, glaring at me.

Derek cleared his throat, interrupting with his own question. "As you may or may not be aware, there's been a string of recent murders in Dallas that greatly resemble the details of your father's case. Including some details which weren't released to the press back when all of this was going on," he started. "Is there anything that you know about that?" At least one of us was being a little more level-headed.

"No, why would I know a thing about any of that?" She responded.

"We're just checking off all of the bases, ma'am," Derek said smoothly. "Looking for everyone involved. We believe that one of your sisters, April, may actually be a target for the maniac who's doing this." He explained.

I held my breath. Telling the sisters or the mother that April had been in town hadn't exactly been something that I had planned on doing but Derek had let it out without hesitation – without thinking about it, perhaps. I could tell by the lack of surprise on the other woman's face that it was information that she had known about, though. That was only keeping her on the list of suspects.

"Well, I couldn't care less about what's going on in April's life. I haven't seen her in years, nor do I intend to any time soon." I stared at Libby as she spoke, trying to find some truth or lie in her voice. It's a bit difficult to tell, surprisingly, but it seems… somewhat true, even if I don't want to give her any credit.

"Is there any information that you can offer us? Someone who's perhaps tried to talk to you about the details of your father's case?" Derek suggested.

"No. That's family business." She answered shortly.

There's a tense moment of the three of us just staring at each other where it became even more apparent that there was nothing useful we were going to get from standing here. Perhaps there was a chance of getting something more if we twisted her arm down at the police station, but at the moment, we didn't have probable cause to go through with something like that.

"If you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to," Libby said shortly, escorting us toward the door.

"Of course," Derek said with a polite nod. "Thank you for your time."

We both walk out the door and wait until it was closed and we had gotten into the car to begin discussing, wanting to make sure that we weren't overheard by anyone else.

"There's no way that she doesn't have a better idea of what's going on," I commented. "You could tell that she already knew that April was in town. April hasn't told anyone in her family and her mother didn't know about it," I elaborated slightly, glancing at him as he began to drive back toward the station.

"You're right," Derek agreed with a nod of her head. "She definitely knows something. Any information on the kid of hers?"

"Not yet," I answered with a shake of my head.

A moment later, his cell phone rang, and he answered before putting it on speaker phone so the both of us could hear.

"Shepherd," he responded.

"We just got results back on the hair that was found at the crime scene." One of the techs spoke over the phone.

"And?" I prompted quickly.

"It belongs to a male. There was no match in the database, however, it shared a significant amount of DNA similarities with Dr. Kepner," the male on the other end of the line answered and explained.

"What do you mean by significant?" I questioned, glancing over at Shepherd to see that the same worried expression was mimicked across his features.

"Approximately twenty-five percent. We could be looking at a half-brother, a grandparent, something of the likes." I clucked my tongue at the answer given, mulling over the possibilities. She didn't have any half-brothers, nor any living grandparents. Unless…

"Thank you," Shepherd said into the phone, hanging up. "What are you thinking?" He asked.

I paused a moment, taking a deep breath before throwing my idea out there. "Is it just me, or did the kid in the photos look a little too old to be Libby's kid? She's what – in her late thirties? And he's probably twenty-something. April doesn't have any memories of her sister being pregnant. The timeline doesn't add up." I explained.

"And?" He prompted me to continue.

"I don't think he's her kid," I blurted out, releasing the breath I'd taken.

"Who's kid do you think it is?" Derek answered, glancing over at me.

My inner thoughts turmoiled momentarily before I could release them. "I think it's Joseph Kepner's, but I don't think it's Karen's. We know that men like him tend to graduate other serious offenses before they leap to killing like he did. There aren't any records on the book, but I'd be willing to guess that he raped someone, and wanted that kid in the family, so Libby took it as the oldest. Raised her half-brother as her own."

Silence fell for a moment as he processed my hypothesis. "It's not the most outlandish possibility. It would make sense for the DNA match – why he's so bent on copying Joseph Kepner's crime, why he's going after the only person who testified against her."

We share a glance for a moment before I pull out my phone, quickly pulling up April's contact number and calling. I listened to the other end ring for a few long moments before it eventually went to the voicemail. I hung up, pausing for a moment before calling the number again. I try a third time before giving up, waiting until we get to the station to find her. She must have been busy with the autopsy.

When we get back inside the station, I quickly hurried down to the basement of the building to find her. I find Hunt and a closed body instead.

"Where's Dr. Kepner?" I asked him quickly, furrowing my eyebrows.

"She took off about an hour ago," Hunt answered.

I frowned. It didn't make sense – if she'd taken off that long ago, she wouldn't have still been driving unless she had made a pitstop somewhere. I check the parking lot quickly. There's no sign of my truck, not where it had been parked or anyone where else.

As a bit of last resort, I pull out my phone, checking the Find My Friend app to see if she had it turned on. She didn't. I called one more time, crossing my fingers and hoping for better luck this time. But it's the same. No answer.

A couple of texts are sent, hoping that maybe she'd respond to them. Maybe she had gone to a movie, or somewhere else where it was inappropriate to answer her phone immediately. The longer that I went without hearing back from her, the more anxious that I became about the situation. It wasn't like her to just not respond. At this point, it was too long for a drive or a shower. If she'd fallen asleep, the phone ringing multiple times likely would have woken her already. This didn't make any sense.

Borrowing one of the department cruisers, I quickly began to drive in the direction of my house, hoping that she's there and has some kind of explanation for not answering the phone.

As I cruise down the highway, though, traffic slows down for what appeared to be people bottlenecking at some kind of accident. Typical. But being no different from everyone else, I squint, trying to get a better look at what's going on myself. It's then that I realize the black truck isn't just any black truck – it's mine.

Quickly pulling over onto the shoulder, I pull out my badge and run up to one of the uniformed officers who was working the scene, trying to get information.

"What happened here?" I demanded quickly.

"Vehicle accident. Other driver sped off before anyone could get the license plate, so all we've got is a make and model," the younger man – Officer Ross – answered.

"What about the truck driver? Have they been transported to the hospital already?" No ambulance was here, that must have been the only solution.

"We didn't find another drive." Officer Ross responded.

I deadpanned for a moment, looking back over at the totaled vehicle. With the license plate that was still readable beneath the crunching of metal, there was no doubt that it was mine. April had been in the car. Someone had taken her, and I don't have a doubt in my mind who it was.

"Alright. You need to get an APB out on Dr. April Kepner, right now. Get a BOLO out on that car. I don't care if we don't have more information. That's the Chief Medical Examiner and she's been kidnapped." I barked the orders, quickly turning around and heading back to my car to get on the radio.

This had gone too far.


	10. Chapter 10

**_ APRIL _ **

It's hard to remember what exactly happened. How I got here.

One minute, I had been driving down the highway, listening to the news. I hadn't noticed anything abnormal, even with how paranoid I had been lately. The paranoia was inevitable. I hadn't noticed anyone following me or any weird driving behavior. I mean, cities were cities. Everyone who drove here was crazy. It was practically a survival mechanism.

And in the next minute, the trick had been moving beyond my own control as another had slammed into it, the sound of screeching tires and metal crunching other metal. The sound echoed in my ears.

The smell was the worst part of it, though. Spilled gasoline. He must have hit the fuel tank on the other side which meant… fire. Fire was a dangerous risk. Yet despite that, I can't move. I don't know if it's the shock of a more physical sensation. Either way, I'm stuck in place, a sitting duck just waiting for another car to not be paying enough attention to its surroundings and slam into me.

"You gotta get out of the car!" Someone's voice yelled at me.

It makes sense, of course. I do need to get out of the car before the worst could happen. I let out the breath that I'm holding onto and realize just how sore my entire body is from the force of the impact. My back hurt the worst of all. Instinct told me to look around but the medical degree insisted that I stay still just in case things aren't right. Despite that, I turn my head.

A male was peering in the window, probably a decade younger than myself. Maybe a little more. Strawberry blonde hair and freckles, but he was standing far too close to me. Or perhaps the circumstances had just made me more claustrophobic than usual.

"Right…" I mumbled, not sure what to say for a minute.

The door of the truck is finally yanked open and two arms wrap around my frame, yanking me out of the vehicle. I expected my feet to meet the ground, but they don't.

Instead, the male helping me lifted me up and over his shoulders, roughly twisting my arm so that he had me in a firefighter's hold. My head spun for a moment with the quick movements and the rush of blood in the opposite direction, trying to figure out what was happening.

"What are you doing?" I questioned, squirming against his tight grip slightly.

He doesn't answer me. I give it a moment, thinking that maybe he's out of breath or not capable of holding me and talking at the same time, but no such luck comes. Instead, he hustled back to what appeared to be his car. It's damaged. He hit me, I realize. The front grill of the truck is a mess, but the rest of it appeared in decent enough condition. It must have been an accident.

The assumption is very quickly eradicated from my mind when the back door of the truck is open and he tossed me down inside of it. It took me a minute to flip back over the right way.

"What the hell are you doing?" I repeated the question, my voice rising up.

A hand rooted in the length of my hair, slamming my head back into the center console. I black out.

Time doesn't quite pass while unconscious. It's not the same as sleep – there's no dreams or sense of security for any of it, no heavy ease to pull me out of it. Instead, it's a constant and dull throbbing in the back of my head that continues to persist even when my senses began to come back to me.

Even when my eyes do finally open to try and remember what had happened and figure out what was going on, it's still dark all around me.

I'm laying on my back and I try to sit up only to realize that I'm bound. My hands are above my head. Handcuffs, maybe. Something metal and cold. But they're tight. They barely make noise when I rustle and pull because there's little slack. I'm not on a bed. It's too hard. The floor was tile or cement, maybe, far too cold to be anything metal. The smell is musky. Basements aren't common in this part of the state, but… I think I'm in a basement.

"Hello?"

The simple word echoed quietly in the walls. It must have been mostly empty. It's too quiet.

Even though no one answered me, it still felt like I was being watched so hard. My eyes barely adjusted to the darkness around me. There's no light, really. I can barely see an outline of myself, my legs, the floor that I'm on. Squinting in the darkness only made the throbbing behind my head hurt even more, like looking at a laptop in the midst of a dark room.

Giving another pull at the restraints around my wrist, I realize that the rest of my body is still in pain, too. This position only accentuated the soreness between my shoulder blades. I yank and yank until my shoulders are in agony from the attempts. I slumped back, momentarily giving up.

"It's useless." A woman's voice croaked out.

I froze for a moment. There was someone else here. I wasn't alone. Why hadn't she answered me before? Thinking back, there hadn't been a woman there. Just a man. Had he taken her too? I realized I had no idea what to say to her.

"Hi," I breathed out unsteadily. "You're– you're down here too?" I questioned.

"Have been since the morning." She replied. "I don't think it's been more than one day, at least. My name's Serena."

"I'm April," I answered. What do you say in a situation like this? "I'm… I'm sure we'll have someone find us soon. I'm a medical examiner. My… my best friend will come looking for me. We'll be out of here soon." I echoed, hoping that I could make myself believe the words.

A quiet moment passed between us, but it doesn't last for long.

"So you're the one he's been talking about. The one who's going to kill me." Serena responded.

This time, it's my fault for the silence, caught off guard by the words that she said. I was going to kill her? I didn't know what his guy was or what he had told her before, but now at least I knew that it was utter bullshit.

"No. I'm not going to do anything like that." I cleared my throat, trying to add a little strength and clarity to my words for both of our sakes.

"You say that now," her tired voice replied.

"I mean it," I replied quickly. "We'll get out of here. Jackson will come looking for us, I promise. He'll notice that I'm not at his place and he'll come looking. I… I was driving his truck. He'll know that something's wrong." I quickly rambled on, cuffs around my wrist jingling once more as I shifted against them.

When Serena doesn't reply, I'm not sure if she believes me or not. The silence is suddenly that much heavier knowing that it's not just me in the room. I don't know how to stand it, so I keep talking.

"Jackson's a good man. He's a police officer – a homicide detective, actually. Not that he's going to find us dead. He's new at homicide. So, you know, he's more experienced at finding and dealing with the living, not the dead. He'll find the both of us and you'll see that I'm right." I continued nervously, clearing my throat again. It's intentional this time but my voice sounds the same. "He's a really good man. I'm sure he's been calling and texting me, trying to figure out where I am. I think, uh, I think that he likes me. Really likes me, you know?"

"You talk a lot," Serena responded with a hoarse chuckle.

"I've been told that before," I admitted, catching myself smiling softly. "Quiet is a little awkward when I have no idea who you are. Or what you look like. Or anything about you, really. You're letting me do all the talking."

"Am I?" She responded, this time not missing a beat.

I let out a slight laugh. "Fair enough," I breathed out. "Tell me about yourself."

"I'm a doctor. A mother. I was going to the grocery store to pick up some cupcakes for my seven year old's birthday party today," she said sadly. My heart ached for her. She was here because of me.

"I'm sorry," I admitted for more reasons than what she could probably understand. Or maybe she did. Who knew what all he had told her before I had gotten here?

"I'm sure that you will be."

Whatever he had told her, apparently the bitterness had already set in. I can't really be mad about it. Tables turned, I probably would have been pissed off, too. Hell, I was. About everything that had already happened. But this was my fault. My reasons for being angry are different. It's just as much anger at myself as it is at him, for better or for worse.

Not sure what to say, the quiet fell over between the two of us. This time, it's less unsteady than before. It's tense, instead, angry. I was at my core, and it practically radiated throughout the room.

Minutes pass. Maybe longer. It's hard to keep up with time when there's no indication of anything. The only thing that was steady at the moment was the pulsing inside of the back of my head, no doubt where it'd been smashed in to knock me out. But that's not reliable. I know it's slower and longer than a second, than two. It's no rational way to keep time. I can't keep up with it beyond ten pulses at a time. It's too difficult to focus on. It hurts too much.

A sudden light streamed in from above and my gaze jerked up. It's coming from above a staircase – I can see it illuminated now. It was a basement, judging from that alone. At the top of the stairs, there's an outline of a man standing there.

But there's no relief. It's not Jackson. Instead, it's the same man that I had seen before, peering in far too close to me. He's average sized as far as I can tell, hair looking lighter with the only light coming in behind him. But he reached over, flipping the light switch. My eyes burn for a moment to adjust to the sudden light, blinking a few times as my pupil adjusted.

There's something familiar about him. It's easier to tell now. The hair isn't the exact right share and his eyes are a little too dark, but the nose and the freckles are there, the build is right. He looks like my father, when he was young, the photos that had been shared by my mother and grandparents once upon a time. When I was nothing more than a child. But it's not the quite same. Instead, it resembled something that I had seen much more recently.

It's the boy in all of Libby's photos.

Both my shackles and Serena's shake as we adjust. I glance over at her now. She's about my age, the same bad dye job that I had seen on the other women since this case had started. There was no doubt in my mind that this was him.

"Good afternoon, April." That was the only thing that he said.

I don't respond, shifting and pulling myself back, flatting against the wall in expectation for him to come near me. Instead, he doesn't. He goes over to Serena.

Serena began to shriek and thrash as he slowly undid her from the binds on her walls, attempting to kick and thrash. But he hit her. Hard. It only took a few brief punches in succession for her to give up the fight that she was trying to display. He doesn't cast another look at me nor say a word as he slung her over his shoulder, carrying her up the stairs.

The lights go off and I'm alone again.

More time passes.

This time is longer, I can tell that much. Mostly because some of the throbbings in my head began to ease up after awhile, even if it's still there, just not quite as intense as it had been before.

There's no way to ease the passing of time or reduce the anxiety that quelled uneasily in my stomach. I want to throw up. Maybe if I'd been able to move around a little more and new that I wouldn't have to be stuck smelling it for a while after, I would have. But instead, I'm just there, shifting uncomfortably every so often. I don't want him to come back. I just want Jackson to find me.

Hunger and thirst strike eventually, but they both seemed to be the least of my worries. I can't hear anything going on above, I don't know how long he's had Serena or… if she's even still alive at this point. It must have been soundproofed down here. Or she was dead. I hated the latter option.

I drift off from a lack of other options, or maybe it's a concussion that I'm trying to ignore. I'm in and out for awhile, unsure of anything else happening. It's better that way, at least temporarily.

Light wakes me up again and I blink rapidly to try and process the surroundings, only to see that nothing has changed. Not really. He was there again, slowly descending down the staircase and staring right at me.

"I hope you didn't miss me too much," he said.

I don't respond, only glaring at him.

"There's no need to be like that, April. After all, we're family." He grinned at me, clearly too amused by the situation at hand. He walked closer to me, squatting down so that he was at my eye level. "C'mon, let's see a little smile."

Not wanting to gratify him, I do the only thing that I can think of – the nasty thing that they always do in the movies. I spit in his face.

He slapped me hard enough that my head spun again.

"Come on now! You're a Kepner, aren't you? You should know better than to behave yourself like that." He clucked his tongue at me. "Then again, you never were very good of one, were you? Betraying our father like that. You put a disgrace to the family name, pulling that little stunt." He continued speaking.

"You have no idea what it's like. You're not a Kepner." I finally uttered out.

"Oh, yes I am," he disagreed all too cheerily. "Mark Kepner, son of Joseph and… well, my mother was a whore. She's not important. Libby was kind enough to raise me just as I should have been before you took my father away from me."

So Mark was his name. Biblical, and yet there was nothing holy about this man, nothing Christian. Maybe he believed or maybe he didn't. My parents had – but they had perverted the faith so hard, twisted it so beyond the text of the Holy Book, that I found it difficult to believe in anything above. Certainly anything similar to what they did. He was just another guy, bastardizing religion for his own personal beliefs.

"I think it's about time that you got a better idea of what it really means to be a Kepner, April. You're just a girl… but, oh well. I hear you're a medical examiner. So you're plenty equipped to be doing what I'm doing." Mark rambled on, grinning at me like a maniac.

Trying to retain any sense of control and keep him from having any satisfaction, I fall silent. It seemed like my only option. It was clear that he was delusional.

But that doesn't get me very far. The chaotic expression on his face shifted toward one of anger and he lunged at me, but not to hit me again. This time, he takes the opportunity to undo the binds on my wrists that had kept me attached to the wall thus far. My wrists are still cuffed, but there's nothing to at least keep me in place for a few brief seconds.

I make the same attempts that I had seen Serena do, swinging my arms forward to try and claw his eyes out. I get a little success – nails meeting flesh, but not with as much force as I hoped. He snatched one of my arms and jerked it down, the other following in succession.

"Now, now, you'll be able to get all of that out. Just not on me."

Although I don't even begin to have a clue what he's talking about, I don't get the chance to ask – I'm not even sure that he wanted to. In the same way that he had with Serena before, he lifted me up and slung me over his shoulder. I'm not deadweight, though, even if it's hard to fight when he's holding both my legs down.

The second that we're out of the basement, I begin screaming with all of my might, hoping and praying that he would have some kind of neighbor to hear me. Just because the basement had been soundproofed, didn't mean that the rest of it had to be, right?

"No one's going to hear you, Duckie. I made sure of that."

Wrong.

Looking around the room the best that I can in the position, the house looks normal. Compared to everything else, at least. I can't see any neighbors. Wilderness was outside. No pool.

It's a quick turn around. When Mark sets me down, well, he doesn't. Instead, he throws me down, ensuring that it hurts every bit of the way. We're in a smaller room, what must have been a bedroom. Or was supposed to be one, at least. There's a table in the middle, hair draping over. I realize that it must have been Serena. I can't smell blood. I don't know whether that's good or bad.

"Now, here's what's actually going to happen…" Mark started, placing his foot on my throat so I can't move or struggle. I'm not sure if he's willing to kill me or not, and not willing to take that risk just yet. "You're going to take part of the family tradition, April. Serena? She's not here for me to kill. She's here for you."

All I can do is stare at him. He couldn't be serious, could he? This was why he had been targeting me all this time? I'd thought that he just wanted to kill me. But this… this was beyond all thought and possible rationale. I would never do something like that. He had to know that.

That had to be why he wanted me to do it. He had this distorted perception of who Kepners were meant to be and now he wanted me to take part in his delusion.

"No way in Hell." I breathed out. His foot tightened on my throat.

"Oh, yes you are." Mark grinned at me. He removed his foot, suddenly squatting down next to me. "We have a big family. You don't think that it's just me doing this, do you?" He questioned, interpreting my silence as doubt. Rightfully so. "I know all about that detective you like. You can either do what I say now or… I'll get a nice video of his death, nice and brutal, just for you. And then we'll be right here again, where you're going to do what I want no matter what."

The threat to Jackson's life made me freeze. He couldn't be serious, could he? My sisters wouldn't have been delusional enough to do something like. They were… well, they were something else. I didn't know what to say. But surely they wouldn't do something like that.

I don't say a word. I can't accept his word as it was. I don't want to put Jackson at risk, though. So many others had already been hurt because of me and I didn't want him on the list too.

"I have something for you." Mark fished his phone out of his pocket. It's a moment before he turned it toward me so I could see the screen for myself.

On his phone was a picture of Jackson. Then he swiped – more pictures of Jackson, then pictures of me and Jackson, right up to outside of his house. So the one spot the I thought was safe… he knew about. The one person that I had trusted, he knew all too well about. And he had known about. Was it him? Was it one of my sisters? Was it someone else entirely?

"Right now, he's at the police station. It wouldn't take me long to get there if I wanted. I'm sure I could lure him out easily. Tell him I found you. That'd be so simple, wouldn't it? He'd come running, just waiting to be your knight in shining armor…" He trailed on sadistically.

Of course, Jackson would be at the police station. He must have been working to find me. Hopefully, he saw the crash. He knew that I wouldn't be home. That I would have called if I was okay.

"Time to get up," Mark announced harshly. He grabbed my wrists, hauling me up to my feet.

"I'm not going to do this," I hissed out with a shake of my head.

"Oh, yes you are." He disagreed. My eyes darted around as I looked for an escape – no windows, there's only one door. Not a bedroom, then, an office. Which meant that maybe it was close to the front door. Maybe it would be a quick run. But I don't know if he has a gun or not. He hadn't used one on any of the victims before, but… it was Texas. The odds were there.

Mark began to hum some kind of tune and I barely scooted back from him. He's still between me and the door. I don't want to leave Serena behind, either. It's not fair. She was here because of me.

The drawer of a desk opened and I can't see what's in it. What I do see is the knife that he pulled out of it. It's a sharp edge. It looked like a professional chef's knife, something expensive. The kind that any rational person would have used a fingerboard for, just in case. With everything that he had been doing, it made sense.

"Now, originally, I was going to go through your entire name. But then I had a thought. _I_ is the perfect letter for you to take part in, isn't it?" Mark laughed at what he thought was supposed to be some kind of joke. But there's no humor. "Oh, April. Sanctimonious, self-righteous, April. You've always thought that you were better than the rest of us, haven't you? But I know you'll do this. And I know that you'll enjoy it, too. You'll even be good at it. You've got all the practice in the world with that job of yours. This is something that you were meant to do. So you can stop with the obnoxiously condescending glare and just accept your fate."

When I fall silent at the proposition that he was given me, he only has one more thing to add. The one thing that twisted the knife in the wound, and he knew it.

"Or, you can let me kill Jackson, and then you can accept your fate. The choice is yours."

The dangerous look in his eyes terrified me. It showed that he was serious, that if I didn't do this right now, he was going to go through with every single threat. He was going to kill Jackson. He was going to have someone else kill Jackson. It didn't really make much of a difference, did it? The end result was the same. And it was one that I couldn't live with.

Unable to say what he wanted to hear, I held out a shaky hand.

"Atta girl!" Mark encouraged me. Before he handed over the knife, though, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a revolver, aiming it at me. Predictable. Of course. He had to have some kind of back up method, some way to make sure I didn't just go after him.

The knife is placed in my hand and it shakes there. With the now empty hand, Mark gestured toward Serena, on the table. She was tied down and gagged, stripped, but she's awake. I hadn't noticed it before, but I do now. There's a pair of wide blue eyes, staring at me with nothing short of absolute terror.

It clicked. This was what he had been talking to her about. This had been her nightmare.

"I'm so sorry," I sobbed out, stepping toward her. I don't want to look at her, but it's impossible not to see those eyes staring back at me. I'd read interviews with serial killers – this was the part that they loved. This is how I knew that I wasn't like him, or my father.

The blade of the knife met her flesh, shaking. The shake was what caused me to nick across her pale skin, stronger than any conscious free will.

Before he or I could go any further with what was going on, there's a loud bang and the sound of scuffling followed. I flinched at the noise and nearly dropped the knife, jerking my head toward the door. This might have been my only chance. I had to go.

"Dallas Police! We know you're here!" A male's voice called out.

I make the mistake of dropping the knife and lunging toward the door. Before I can grab the knob, Mark grabbed me and yanked me back against him. I can feel cool metal pressing into the side of the temple and realize that he's got the gunpoint right into my frontal lobe. The police are here, but I'm not free yet. Instead, I'm a human shield. My brother's human shield.

"You don't have to do this," I tried to beg him as he backed himself up into the wall, realizing there was no other way out. "If you turn yourself in, you can get a plea bargain. They won't execute you." I tried to reason.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to make the same mistakes as our father?" Mark scoffed.

Before I had the chance to answer or try to reason with him any further, the door to the office was kicked in. Serena began to scream and resist the ties on the table, but I know that I can't move. Not without the risk of him quite literally blowing my brains out. That was a wound that I wouldn't survive.

Looking up to see the officers there, it's Shepherd and Avery. It's a relief to see Jackson standing there, even when I'm currently seated between a multiple of guns. Theirs and his.

But Mark is a few inches taller than me, a few inches wider. I'm a poor human shield for any male from size alone, and there has to be some kind of advantage of that. I barely manage to get Jackson's eyes, and I can tell that he's a mixture of enraged and terrified. I understand it completely. At the moment, I feel the exact same way.

"Take the shot," I begged him, unable to find anything else to say at the moment. I'm desperate. I trust him. I trust him more than anything else, more than anyone else on the planet. He was the only person that I had been able to trust in a long time. I hadn't expected to have to utilize that trust so soon, to have to put my life quite literally in his hands... but it's something that I find myself willing to do, even when I've got death staring at me from multiple different angles. If anyone could do it, he could do it. "Please, just take the shot." I reiterated.

Jackson gave me a slight nod of the head, taking a deep breath, and his gun goes off.


	11. Chapter 11

**_ JACKSON _ **

I don't want to be here.

After all of the work that had been put in by myself and others to get here, to figure out who had taken April and to where... I still don't want to be here. Not in this position.

We had tried tracking her cell phone for a location and it had only led to a dead end – turned off and dumped. But luck had taken a turn for the better. Some cell phone footage had been pulled off the crash and we'd gotten a blur of the ma, but more importantly, a license plate along with the make and model of the car. From there, it had only been a quick search of the records to figure out who it belonged to.

Mark Kepner. The last name had said it all. My theory had been right. Even if the idea of a half-brother removed one disgusting idea from my mind, the list of possibilities of what he could be doing to her at any given moment was long and disturbing.

The video and a favor with a judge had been enough to get a warrant to search through his house, but it had come out short. There was nothing there to indicate that he or April had been there, and also nothing that showed where he might have taken her. The next steps had been going to Libby and Karen again to see if there was any information to be found there.

Neither of them had actually been helpful or willing to give any kind of answers. If anything, they were all the opposite. Libby all but slammed the door in my face after seeing me again, and Karen hadn't been much more welcoming.

More research had been done looking for some kind of explanation It turned out that Alice and Jimmie had both moved out of the city – one to Waco, the other to Oklahoma. They were unlikely to be involved.

Information had come back that Karen owned a second property about an hour's drive outside of the city that had the isolation necessary to perform… well, just about anything. The previous victims had been killed and dumped in the city, the outside location was unnecessary, but it was clear that the way he was treating April was going outside of the way that he had dealt with the past women that he had killed. Right now, anything was possible. And that was the worst possible thing.

So much work and yet I hate that I'm here.

There's no shake in holding my gun even though the woman that I adore, that I'm fascinated with in every way, that I… well, that I love is standing in between me and the only person that I'm interested in having it pointed at.

"Take the shot," April begged. I can't find it in myself to say a word to her, eyes widening. She wasn't crazy – I knew that even if the words that she was saying were absolutely crazy. It was a close shot. She was small, not the best human shield in the world, the top of her head just in front of his chin. His shoulder was exposed, but that's not a lot to go on. "Please, just take the shot." She repeated her sentiment, eyes wide and begging.

I can't think about it. I literally can't. My brain wasn't processing the entirety of the situation and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, trying to fight off the fight of glitch reflex kicking in, the adrenaline pumping through me. A decision has to be made.

The sound of my gun going off rings loudly in my ears when I finally pull the trigger.

I've fired a gun before, plenty of times. But I've never actually pulled the trigger at another human being. Hell, to be honest, I haven't even had to pull it off my belt as a threat that many times. The truth of being a police officer was more often than not, things could be talked and worked out without the need for a gun. A baton or pepper spray was often more than enough for the situation.

Both of them fall down after the bullet had projected through the air. I'm stunned and stuck for a moment, watching as April rolled herself off of him.

Shepherd swooped in to compensate for the fact that I was frozen in place. My gaze flickered for a moment to Mark, making sure that at least the pull of the trigger had been worth it. He's bleeding from his chest. There's no resistance as Shepherd got to him, holding pressure against the wound and calling for a bus to the scene over the radio.

"April?" Finally, I managed to say something.

The redhead doesn't immediately respond to my words, rolling flat so that she was on her back. It's then that I can finally see what exactly had happened. I'd hit her. I'd shot her. The bullet had gone through her shoulder and into Mark's. She was bleeding because of me.

"April, April, I've got you." Action finally kicked in and I holstered my weapon quickly as I moved to get down on my knees next to her, a hand wrapping around her shoulder to try and apply pressure to the bleeding there. My hands were quickly covered in her blood but she was conscious, it appeared, hazel eyes fluttering around a few times and looking around. It's a long moment before she finally looked at me again.

"You shot me," she murmured, the rise and fall of her chest shaking.

"You told me to take the shot." He words are more than enough to unsettle me completely, make me doubt the decision that I made. I knew I'd have to justify it. Yet it had just become infinitely harder to do.

"I know. I just didn't think that you actually would." April explained, staring at me for a moment before laughing. Even though there's a grimace that followed, it brings back a little security.

Pulling back my hand just slightly to look at the wound, I try not to grimace at the blood there. It was different seeing it on the living than it was dead. Suddenly, what she did – even what I did, it made a little more sense than what it had before. I knew that the wound was through and through from the fact that it had hit Mark. That was generally a good thing. She was going to be okay.

"I'm sorry," I murmured with a gentle smile, unsure what else to say.

"It's okay," she shook her head. "Just keep some pressure on the wound. But don't move it around too much. There could be vascular damage but I don't think it hit my collarbone. Otherwise, I would be in a lot more pain." I nodded. A good thing. She seemed to know enough about this.

"I've got it," I confirmed with a nod of the head. "Ambulance will be here any minute. We'll make sure that you're the first priority." I told her.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, April shook his head. "He needs medical attention more than I do."

"April, that's–"

"That's the facts, Jackson. I took it to the shoulder and he took it to his chest. He needs surgery, probably. I don't want him to get off the hook with all of this by just dying. That's not fair." She insisted.

She and I clearly didn't have the exact same idea of what was and wasn't fair going on in our head. He had already killed three women – threatened two more, and that was just what we knew about. A guy like that deserved nothing more than to rot. Sure, judge and jury, the whole process. I had heard about it my entire life. But something this personal was something that I had to take issue with.

"We might be running out of time on that front," Derek commented with a shake of his head. "Unconscious. Weak pulse." He added.

"Here," April began to sit up. Both of my hands stay on her shoulder but I don't hold her back, shifting slightly in my shut so that I moved with her.

"What are you doing?" I asked her with furrowed brows.

"Helping." She answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Withholding my own sigh at her stubborn insistence, I don't get in the way of what she's trying to do. It's not long before her hands are covered in his blood and maybe in a different context, it wouldn't have bothered me, but this time it just makes my stomach turn with disgust. She shouldn't be helping him. Letting him die was the right thing to do.

I wasn't sure what exactly she was doing, or if she was actually doing anything more than what Shepherd had, or if this was just something for her own kind of benefit. Some way of taking back control.

But I don't say a word despite all of the different ones lingering on the tip of my tongue. The chance is minimized when Mark's eyes open up once again.

"Here we are again," he rasped out.

"Don't think I won't shoot you again." I snapped at him. But he paid no attention to me.

The ambulance was outside of the house judging from the noise of the sirens blaring. Shepherd to up for a moment, presumably to guide them into the room. It's the first moment where I consider choking the life out of him, ignoring all procedures and protocols. If I hadn't been tasked with applying pressure on April's wound, I probably would have.

"Such a good sister," Mark clucked his tongue.

April shifted forward and he grunted in pain. "We're not family. I'm doing this because unlike you and the rest of who you think is your family, I'm a good person. I'm a good person."

"You are." I murmured the affirmation quietly, gaze shifting away from him and back to her features. I can't tell if she's upset or in pain or if it's both – both were reasonable. "You are a good person." If anything, what she was doing right now proved how much better of one she was compared to me.

She doesn't have to continue what she's doing for much longer. The paramedics enter the room a moment later and take over where April's hands are. She pulled back and sat on her heels, staring down at the blood on her hands.

There's nothing that I can say to make her feel better about this. I don't have the words, I don't have the capacity to tell her that it's going to be okay or some kind of other magical words that will make her feel better about the situation. I've talked to victim's families and even there, only so much can be said, sympathy offered but it's not enough to fill the hole that had been ripped from them. Now, it's not that there's a loss of someone important.

Security. The sense of self. Independence. There was only so much that I could imagine.

"Come on, let's get you going. You still need to get checked out by a doctor too." I reminded her gently. April gave a nod of her head and I helped her up. Her hands took over the entrance wound and I kept a steady one on the exit, tips of our fingers barely brushing over each other.

"Thank you," she breathed out as we walked side by side slowly to exit the house.

"For what?" I questioned with furrowed brows.

"Having pretty good aim. Not perfect, but pretty good." April glanced up at me with a slight chuckle on her lips, smiling. She's just been through hell and yet here she was, trying to lighten up my mood instead.

I gave a slight shake of my head. "Not good enough, apparently," I commented.

"Well, I won't argue with that." She shrugged the one shoulder that we weren't holding onto. I don't blame her for not trying to feed into my ego more than what she already has.

Another one of the paramedics who had come took over for both of our hands and even if I take a few steps back to get out of his way, my gaze doesn't leave her. I'm not a medical expert, just some basic skills that I had needed to learn in the academy. Not enough to really help, though, even if I've got a basic idea of what they were doing.

"Does she need to go to the hospital?" I butted in, hating just sitting on my heels like this.

"For some stitches, yeah. Probably not an overnight stay." She answered me with a slight nod of the head, taping on some gauze over the wounds. "We'll take you."

"Can I come?" My gaze switched back and forth between April and the paramedic.

The paramedic gave a slight nod of the head, as did April after a moment. I followed them over to the ambulance intending to get in the back alongside her, but before I get the chance, Shepherd grabbed me by my shoulder and pulled me away slightly to try and keep the conversation from being too overheard.

"You know you need to get back to the station. You're going to have paperwork coming out your ass over this. Not to get started on the media." Shepherd hissed under his breath.

I sighed, shaking my head. "I shot a man with a gun to an innocent woman's head. This isn't some political statement or some racial thing. You know that. And uh, no offense man, but I think between me and you, you're not the one who needs to be getting into this."

"Still. You gotta go." Derek reiterated with raised eyebrows.

"Right," I sighed, nodding slightly. "Lemme give her a heads up."

"Okay." He agreed.

Heading back over to April quickly, I give a slight wave to the paramedic to keep them from pulling off with her before I can get in another quick word. I didn't want her to think that I was intentionally ditching her.

"April, I'm sorry, but I gotta go back to the station. Are you going to be okay?" I questioned, brows furrowing deep toward the bridge of my nose.

"I'll be fine," April gave me a small smile. "Don't worry. After they release me, I'll come to the station."

"Okay," I agreed with a slight nod of her head. "Here," I handed her my personal cell phone, wrapping her fingers around it. "You're going to need a phone to take an Uber over. Yours is in evidence. We'll figure it all out later." Leaning forward, I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Pausing for a moment to watch as the paramedic pulled away to take her to the hospital, I let out the sigh that I've been holding onto for far too long before going to join Shepherd.

He drove the both of us back to the station and my work phone was blowing up with different texts from a variety of people. I don't want to answer them. I knew my mom was likely to be calling any minute – a burden that I had incidentally placed on April, perhaps, but hopefully, she'd just tell her to call my work phone instead. Or just, well, ignored the call. That might have been better for everyone involved.

The drive back is short and long at the same time. I'm dreading everything that's to come. I know that it's a good shot. I know that in my heart and soul. But I also know that the political climate may not see that. The situation could have been clearer, but it was a good shot.

No matter how I try and clear it all through my head, though, when it comes to talking to my superiors and getting through all of the paperwork that was necessary… the doubts come back. It would have been nicer if April was there by my side, to reassure me, but I can't ask her to do that. This was her trauma. Not mine. I could only hope that the news wouldn't drag this on.

An email alert notified me that Uber had charged one of my credit cards and I let out a sigh of relief. She'd be here soon. That was something.

It's apparently a long drive from the hospital nearest the crime scene and the police station, not to my surprise. I get through a few more pages of paperwork.

Webber pulled me up to his office for a long conversation. At least he trusted that the shooting had been a good one, but there were still plenty of other things to be talked about in the meantime. The politics around it wouldn't be easy to deal with, and it was likely that multiple statements were going to have to be made. The fact that the bullet had gone through April – well, that was going to be a messy one. More than likely, she was going to have to say something on the matter herself.

The question stuck in the air was whether or not the personal relationship between the two of us was going to make things better or worse. That's the one that I couldn't manage to get past. Shepherd knew, but only briefly. I had to talk to someone about it.

"There's one thing that I haven't brought up yet," I confessed, looking up at the older male and sighing.

"What's that?" Richard asked.

"Dr. Kepner… April and I are in a relationship. We have been for a few weeks. I had her stay at my place for protection but uh, it was more involved than… just that," I started. "I like her. I really, really like her. I don't know how that's going to play out with everything else that just happened. Not– not personally. We'll figure that out. But with the politics, media, everything else." I elaborated.

He let out a sigh of his own. "I can't imagine that it's going to make things better," he admitted. "It could be twisted in a lot of different ways. You already know that. You've got to consider how you want to go forward."

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"With the relationship," he clarified.

"I don't want this to be a breaking point," I admitted, glancing away.

Sure, there's plenty that can be said. It'd only been a few weeks of knowing her and yet I felt like I'd known her my entire life. We had been through more together than what most couples probably ever would, and yet… we didn't even quite have a label on it. It was far from common. But all that we had been through together, that we still liked one another, it had to me something. I'm not usually one for sentiments, but that just felt like it was obvious.

"Then it doesn't have to be," Webber stated like it was the most simple thing in the world. "Don't let it be. You'll get a spokesperson from the department to talk to in the morning. I'll make tonight's statement. Finish up your report, and we'll go from there."

It was a showing of confidence in me that I'm not sure I had earned yet and I smile in appreciation, sucking in a deep breath through my nose and letting out a nod. Webber had always been supportive – of everyone, really. He was a genuine and good man. A bit fatherlike, even, by most standards. That was exactly what I needed at the moment. Support from above.

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

Heading back downstairs to the bullpen, the weight on my shoulders is just a little bit lighter even though I can still feel it there. I can't get rid of carrying the tension but at least I can acknowledge what all had happened. I had made the right decision.

I'd stick by that. I had to believe in myself because so many other people wouldn't.

It doesn't take long to spot a fiery wave of red hair in the precinct, looking around. I smile to myself, mood lifted in a way that only her presence could ever manage to do.

"Hey," I greeted her, eyes drifting to her covered shoulder. "How's it feeling?"

"It's okay," she gave half a smile but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It's pretty numb right now so the pain's not too bad. But the doctor said it should be just fine." She confirmed.

"Good. That's good." I could barely give her a smile. "Why don't we sit down for a minute?"

I still had some paperwork to do, of course, but that wasn't near the reason why. It was just a small excuse. I get her settled down at my desk, running across the bullpen for a moment to grab her a coffee from the break room. I give her a moment to sit and calm down, hopefully. She'd been through more than I had – there was still more, though. Statements to be made. The entire legal process, assuming that Mark made it through surgery in the first place.

"Listen, I'm sorry about everything today." I began to explain, but she cut me off.

"You don't need to apologize. You found me and you saved my life, Jackson. That's enough."

I shook my head. "That's not all that I'm apologizing for, April. Sure, it's part of it, but… you're gonna have to deal with a media shit storm. About your family, about this shooting, and… probably about our relationship."

There's a tense pause after my words and I'm not sure if it's because she's doubting my words or something else. She was more of a hard read than I have given her credit for.

"That's okay, too," she nodded.

"It's easy for you to say that now, but I don't want you to have regrets about it down the road," I spoke quickly, perhaps a little too quickly given the words that came from her neck.

"Do you regret it? I mean, being so close with me? None of this would have happened if we weren't." She pointed out. And while it was true, that was nothing near where I was trying to get at with her. My concern was only for her and her wellbeing. She had enough obstacles in her life and she didn't need me to be added to the list.

"No, no. That's not it at all. April, I love you. Okay? That's not what I'm trying to get at. I know the worst of it is over now, but… it's not going to immediately get easy." I explained.

"You love me?" She questioned.

I hadn't even noticed that the words had come out of my mouth. They had slipped through so naturally and seamlessly that I hadn't thought twice about. We'd exchanged trust, and I knew how important that was to her, but never love. That was something different. For me, at least. I didn't know if it was for her, but the way that she questioned it, it seemed to say something about how she felt. Something mutual.

"Yeah, I do." I nodded.

"I love you too." April murmured, smile more genuine this time.

I leaned forward, cupping her face gently and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. She leaned into it for a brief moment, but we're both smart enough to keep it short and chaste with everything else that was going on.

When her lips parted from mine, I let out a breath and fell back against my chair, listening to it squeak under my weight. Personal matters aside, there are still other things.

"You're going to have to give a statement about everything that happened," I reminded her.

"I know." She nodded.

"Do you want me to take your statement, or do you want another officer to do so? I can get someone else to do it, no problem." I offered. I'm not entirely sure what she's comfortable with right now if she wanted me to know the details of everything that happened. Anything else, and I would have been offended by continued privacy. But this… this was one of those situations where it would have made sense.

April took a deep breath. "No, it's okay. You can take it."

Turning slightly toward my computer and adjusting my keyboard so that I can write out everything that she was saying, I give a small nod of my head to indicate for her to begin.

Everything that comes from her mouth comes out of left field. She was in good condition compared to what I had expected to find her in. Her only real physical injury had come from me, after all. What she had been through sounded more psychological, which only alarmed me further. Physical injuries had a more clear-cut path to dealing with them. But mental? That was something completely different. A huge challenge, a hurdle. That was a different trauma to try and get past. One that I didn't immediately know how to help her with.

By the time that it was all typed up, I feel like I've aged a hundred years with everything that had been said. I couldn't imagine what it all must have been like from her point of view. Signing off on the last of the paperwork that I needed to get done for the night, I dropped my pen and turned toward her.

"Do you want to go back to my place, or yours?" I asked her softly.

"Yours," she answered.

With the answer, I gave her a slight smile. With my truck out of commission for awhile, we use one of the department vehicles to drive back to my home in Southlake. April gets into the shower immediately and I follow suit. It was a day that needed to be washed away.

Even though I was craving to be alongside her after the kidnapping and the toll that had taken, April wanted to be on her own. I'm torn between insisting but decide against it. I don't want to force anything on it. Everyone needed alone time, here or there. It was healthy to have it. Sometimes you just needed space to process and I wanted to give her whatever she asked.

But in the middle of the night, I wake up to the sound of disturbances. It doesn't take long to pinpoint they were coming from her room.

When I crack open the door and peek my head in, I let in a stream of light. It's enough to see that she had been tossing and turning and apparently kicked the sheets and duvet off the bed from the twisted pile on the floor. But what concerns me more is the blood on her pajama top. She must have pulled at one of her stitches in the constant twisting around that she had done. So much for not wanting to bother her.

"April, April," I whispered her name to wake her up. "You're bleeding. Let me change your bandage."

To my relief, she doesn't put up any resistance on the matter. I quickly grabbed my first aid kit and she sat still for me as I examined the wound and stitches. Her own look said it was fine so I trusted her at that, rewrapping the wound tightly. The shirt, the sheets, they could be worried about later.

"Are you sure you want to sleep in here alone?" I questioned her once more.

"I'm not sure that I want to sleep at all." She admitted with a slight shrug of her good shoulder, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on top of them.

"That's okay," I said softly, placing my hand on her knee and squeezing it gently. "You've been through a lot. So much more than anyone else I knew and… look at you. You still came out the other side as a better person. I mean, you tried to help save the person who did all of that to you. It takes an extraordinary person to be able to do that, April. You know that, right?"

She doesn't give me a verbal answer. Instead, she pats the spot on the bed next to her. I scoot over to get up against her, wrapping my arm around her and letting her curl up against my waist.

I stay awake as long as I can, but the exhaustion had gotten to me, too. I drift off, unable to help myself.

When I sleep, I don't particularly dream. It's for the best. Given everything else that had gone on, I don't want to know what my imagination might have been capable of coming up with coordination with the rest of it. I'm not sure how long I'm asleep for before the sound of my phone ringing wakes me up. She's asleep and I'm as quiet as possible to get out of the bed and answer it.

"Hello?" I whispered into the receiver, stepping out of the room.

It's a short conversation. I can't decide whether or not I'm supposed to be relieved or burdened by the news on the other end of the phone. It's one of those moments where my personal desires and professional ones didn't line up. I hang up, letting out a groan unintentionally.

"What's going on?" April whispered, her voice scratchy from sleep.

"Mark Kepner is dead."


	12. Chapter 12

**_ APRIL _ **

Exhaustion didn't even begin to cover the heaviness in my bones.

Everything felt like it was pulling me down. Even if I'm freezing cold, I can't find it in myself to move and pull up the sheets over the rest of my body. The weight is a depression that I can't shake off of me. I don't know how.

My head replayed it over and over again, twisting and exaggerating. I can see the knife in my hand again, pressed so close to her flesh. In a way, the image itself, it's not much different than the many autopsies that I had performed in my career. Except for this time the body is living and squirming, there were wide eyes staring at me with panic. It's not cut and dry. It's not medical school, it's not professional. It's torture. Inhumane. And I had taken part in it, one way or another. Willingly? Under duress? It's hard to see the difference.

Jackson climbs out of bed and the shift of weights in the mattress pulls me from the edge of sleep, an eye peeping open to watch him for a moment. I try to stay there and will myself back to sleep, but my ears naturally tuned the sound of his voice. But he wasn't saying much.

Until, of course, he said those particular words.

_Mark Kepner is dead._

Oh.

I'm torn. Part of me felt like I needed to get out of the bed and go down to the hospital, to the morgue, to see for myself and to know that he was really dead. And yet part of me is unwilling to move completely, stuck there. Cement encapsulated me in that exact same spot. I'm not going anywhere, not at the moment. I'm not even sure that I want to.

"Okay." I can't bring myself to say anything else at the moment. It's a shock to the system, on top of everything else that my mind had spun inside of itself. I'm not ready for it.

"I need to head into work," Jackson said. He's standing there and staring at me. Even if I didn't look up to see it for myself, I can feel his eyes burning a hole in me. Watching, waiting. For what? I'm not sure. I can't predict where I'm going any more than he can.

"Okay," I repeated the syllable.

He moved away for a moment, presumably to get changed into something, and I shut my eyes again. But there's no sanctity for sleep. My hands come up and rub the back of them, trying to rid the weight there, but it's no avail. They're heavy regardless of whether they remained closed or opened. It felt like I had been crying, nearly, but it wasn't quite that simple. I'm just drained.

In hindsight, maybe a part of that was my fault. I'd gone to the hospital to get checked out but it had been.. well, minimal, at best. I'd let them scan me to make sure that there wasn't any kind of brain bleed or another internal bleeding site from the car crash, and I'd left it at that. But there were still bruises, still aches and pains rendered throughout the rest of my body. I have a concussion. I hadn't mentioned that to Jackson. He had more than enough already on his plate.

After what felt like forever, I finally managed to roll over and swing my legs off the bed. I get a glass of water from the kitchen. Maybe dehydration was adding to the already long list of problems.

"I'm about to head downtown," Jackson said, grabbing my attention.

I released my breath, giving a slight nod of the head to indicate that I'd heard him. I don't have much else to say. I feel like I should go with him but I don't know how to say it.

"Do you want to come with me?" He asked.

"Uh…" I stuttered out, wetting my lips. "I don't know. I know I can't do the autopsy. I uh, I…" Trying to get the words out and failing, I shake my head indicating that I'm not about to continue. There's an explanation there somewhere. He knew it too, I think.

"What are you thinking about?"

Another question that I don't have the words to answer. It seemed like I was missing out on a lot of those at the moment. What's bothering me the most about this? What had happened on the surface level? That I had participated even if I had been induced to do so? I had still done it. There was still some kind of guilt that was going to be my own to carry, that was determined to seat itself on my shoulders and stay there for as long as it could. It seemed like the guilt had settled in all too comfortably.

"I don't know." It was all that I could say, shaking my head and folding my arms in front of my stomach. I lean into the wall slightly, not bothering to hide my exhaustion this time.

"It's your decision," Jackson reached out to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Either way, I'll be there. Maybe just drive with me? You can always sit in the car. Or maybe grab some breakfast in the city while I work."

I get where he's going. He doesn't want me alone. I can't blame him for that, not really. Even if there's not an active threat hovering over my shoulder anymore with him dead, that doesn't mean that things were going to magically fall back into place again.

"I'll come with you," I agreed. "Let me go brush my teeth and comb my hair."

If all of this mess had brought anything out of me, at least, it's that I no longer care what I look like going out in public. Barefaced and a messy bun just doesn't bother me in the same way that it did before. There was no longer any point in appearing to be put together when it seemed like everyone else around me already knew the truth.

"You ready?" He asked when I came out of the bathroom a few minutes later. I gave a quick nod of the head and flashed a forced smile.

It's another quiet drive. It's hard to find the words to say. To find anything, really. A trivial conversation wasn't going to be anything, it'd fail. But I wasn't ready to really talk about any of it. I had given him my statement. He knew all of the messy details. But that had been clear-cut, formulaic. Not a full extension of everything that had happened. Just the textbook version.

Another police officer greeted us almost immediately upon coming in. Everyone knew what had happened, apparently. Even if Dallas is a big city, things like this weren't frequent anywhere. Too much conversation happened.

"Have they taken him down to the morgue yet?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah. They called family down to identify the body." The officer replied.

I froze at the thought. Even though Jackson may have seen my mom and Libby recently, I hadn't spoken to either of them in years. I didn't want to speak to either of them, either. It was intentional. I wanted it to remain intentional. But I can't say that I'm his family, even if I had the capability to identify his body. I refused to do that.

"I don't know if I can do this," I whispered as I turned toward him, grabbing onto one of his arms and clutching it a little too tightly.

He placed his hand on me, gently turning me away from the conversation with the uniformed officer. "You can," Jackson disagreed. "But you don't have to. Not if you don't want to. This is your decision and your decision alone." He reminded me softly.

"Okay," I gave a slight nod of my head, reaching for his hand.

Jackson's fingers intertwined with mine and gave my hand a soft squeeze. I let go of the breath that I was holding onto, forcing a slight nod of my head.

The hospital hallways seemed particularly unwelcoming as the two of us moved through them and to the elevator down to the morgue. Maybe it would be therapeutic, to see him like this. To know that he was gone.

It wasn't justice. Death was easy. Maybe Hell wasn't and maybe everything that I had been taught about Heaven and Hell was real, and he was getting exactly what he deserved. That thought was a little better to hold onto. But he would never repent for all of the death and suffering that he had caused. Oddly, I had wanted him to live. For that reason and that reason alone. It's hard to process how I really feel about the fact that he was dead.

My imagination played games with me and made the few seconds that were spent inside of the elevator felt like an eternity, even while holding onto Jackson. I'm glad that he was there, but it's not enough to ground me. Not completely. Nothing really had that particular power.

Eventually, the elevator gives one last ding before the doors finally open. He gave my hand another gentle squeeze as we stepped out, and I looked around.

I'm stopped in my place almost immediately.

Standing on the other end of the hallway was my older sister. Libby glanced over her shoulder a few moments later and her eyes landed directly on me, same colored eyes staring right back at me for the first time since I was eighteen years old. Jackson tried to step forward without me, not seeing it yet, and I'm unintentionally jerked forward in response, stumbling to catch myself back on my feet again.

"Hello, April." Libby greeted me coldly.

"Elizabeth." I gave her the same treatment, straightening up and taking a deep breath, trying to force some composure.

"There's no reason for you to be here. Unless you're here to admit your guilt." She countered me with a raise of her eyebrows. I try not to be an angry person, but her words have a way of hitting the right thread inside of me, a string snapping that makes me want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

But reacting with that kind of anger seemed like the exact thing that she or Mark would have wanted out of me. For me to act out and prove that I wasn't any better than the rest of them. I couldn't give them that, not after everything.

"We know who in this family is guilty," I replied, cheeks tightening.

"Yes, yes we do." Libby retorted without hesitation. Her eyes examined me closely and I'm suddenly insecure about my appearance, wishing that I had put more time into making my hair nice or at least dabbing on a little makeup. Sure, I'm not the same frizzy-haired, acne-covered, glasses-wearing that I had been growing up. Even if realistically, that had been the least of my problems when it came to my family as a child.

Jackson let go of my hand, instead placing his on the small of my back and drawing me in closer as he spoke. "So Mark Kepner is dead?" He questioned for confirmation.

"Yes," she tightened her lips. "A complication from surgery, apparently, after being shot in the chest by a police officer. Unwarranted, of course."

"He had a gun to my head." I interrupted before she could get any further. She really was testing me. My hands flattened and pressed against my thighs, preventing them from shaking or curling into fists, trying to hide my typical tells from her. But boy, I can't be nice. Not entirely.

"Like I said, unwarranted." Libby retorted.

I freeze into place and take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down and overreact. No matter what my blood said, they were not my family. Kepner may have been my last name, but that's all it was. An unfortunate label. A misnomer. It wasn't who I was and it did not define me or anything that I did. I was better than that. Better than them. Maybe it made me egotistical, but I would take being a little full of myself with much more pride than I would by being a maniac.

"You never were good or strong enough to fit in with the rest of us. I mean, just look at you. It's no wonder Momma or Daddy never cared about you," she retorted, a malicious smirk growing across her expression. "Just an ugly little piglet."

"I can't wait for you to be in Hell with him and Mark." I snapped back without thinking.

Her temper was more susceptible to coming out than my own was, apparently. Libby lunged toward me and grabbed me by the roots of my hair, lurching my head and slamming it to the wall on the right of me. But before it could actually progress any further than just that, Jackson steps in and pulled her off of me almost immediately. He twisted her arm behind her back, shoving her chest first into the wall.

It shouldn't be gratifying. It's earned, after what she had just done in front of a police officer, but… it's just a smidgen gratifying. At least someone was getting what they deserved.

"I suggest you walk away now before you do anything that could cause me to arrest you," Jackson advised.

Libby looked at the both of us for a long moment, eyes wide before giving a quick nod of the head. Jackson stepped back and released her and she pulled back, smoothing her hands over the blouse that she was wearing as if it was going to give her any sense of composure after what she had done. She quickly walked past me, intentionally bumping against me, and toward the elevator that we had come out of a few moments before.

"She's horrible." I groaned out the second that the elevator doors were shut again and she was gone.

"Yeah," he agreed with a nod of his head, rubbing my back to try and soothe me. "But he's gone. So… that kind of eliminates the need for a trial. You won't have to testify against him, or anything like that. You're free from him, April. That's something worth celebrating."

"But you're not," I pointed out, my eyebrows drawing together. "Him dying is only going to bring you more trouble, Jackson. You know that. The department's probably going to put you on leave and who knows what else?"

Jackson sighed at the honesty, his hand dropping away for a moment. I knew this was going to cause him more trouble than he wanted to admit. I knew that he didn't want to say anything because he was going through it for me. Because of me. His decision and yet I'm still to be held guilty of it, too. It seemed like a lot of things were ultimately my fault, whether he was willing to say that or not.

"It was a clean shot," he reminded me. "It'll be fine."

"I hope so." I frowned, staring up at him. "I want all of this to be over with."

When the elevator comes back down again, we both take it up to the main floor so we can head back out to his truck. I know the announcement about what they were going to do to reprimand him was coming any day now. It seemed like the both of us were going to have more time off than what we anticipated.

It turned out, I was right.

It's only lunchtime when Chief Webber called Jackson up to his office. I can't spend time downstairs, mostly because I'm pretty sure that any time down there is bound to drive me crazy when the cases being processed have everything to do with me. It's easier to sit at his desk and wait.

Paid administrative leave is the decision that comes down. It's seen coming from a mile away. In cases where it was a bad shot and it seemed like everyone in the world except for the police officers making the decisions knew that. It was the same outcome. But this was different. No matter what the media or anyone else said. I had to hope that would be seen, that he wasn't going to have his life and reputation ruined because of me. I could only hope, though. There was nothing that I could do to actually try and change it. Body cameras had been worn. They would show the truth, and everyone would know once it was released.

Yet that night when it's just the two of us at his house, I can't take it anymore. I don't know if it's guilt or anxiety or something else kicking in, the tears start falling before I can stop them.

And it was all unleashed. Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Sitting on the couch and unleashing all of it, tears and snot running down my face. I can't breathe nearly as deeply as I want to, the tightness in my chest suffocating and the lump in my throat making it impossible for any words to come out. Jackson came out of the bathroom to find me in the less than graceful position and he knows that there's nothing that he can do to stop it. That the best thing is just to sit there and let it happen.

But it was painful to be like this, to let the torrent come and eventually soak through his shirt when Jackson pulled me into his arms. I clenched onto him and suffocated there for a few long minutes, unable to calm the war raging through my mind.

"We're going to be okay." He tried to remind me.

I tried to take the words to heart. I played them through my head over and over again like a mantra, like my very life depended on hearing them. I say them so many times that they altogether lose meaning.

Even if things are far from perfect on the surface level, though, I get better at pretending to be. Even though I still pay for my own apartment in the city, I stay with him. It's better that way, safer, perhaps, for my own individual sanity and perhaps his as well.

I alternate sleeping in my own bed and sleeping with him, clothed or otherwise. I work some, other cases and where needed, but I try to spend more time with him. He goes boating a lot, occasionally sends me pictures of some of the fish that he catches while on the lake, though he doesn't bring them home for dinner. Catch and release was his way. I teased him about the irony of it as a police officer.

Although it felt like a long time for the investigation to take place about the shooting of Mark Kepner, the decision does eventually come.

By that point, of course, the media had taken a hold of it. Jackson's name, as well as Mark's, had been released. I had come out in the investigation, as well. Once the body camera footage had gone public, it was only a matter of time for that to happen. My name came out, as did my connection to both Mark and my father.

But sitting in that courtroom, I'm not beside Jackson. I sit in the back. Instead, he's in the front with his mother by his side. The grand jury hearing had only gone on for a few days, which was supposed to be a good sign. I wasn't controversial, it didn't take a lot of back and forth. Maybe most of the back and forth was about the political climate, the precedent that it was going to set.

That had worried me – that because of what Jackson had done, and it is a good shot in his particular circumstance, it might jeopardize the future of other police officers on a prosecution. Officers who, unlike him, deserved it.

Not guilty.

For the first time, I can let out the breath that I'm holding onto. Despite the instinct to sob freely into my hands, I force a smile across my face as the judge dismissed the case and people began to get up and exit the courtroom. I stay in my place as it cleared up, waiting until there were only a few stragglers to finally get up and approach him before anyone else could.

"We're okay," I said with a smile, pausing only a moment before I reach up and wrap my arms around him, anchoring myself against him in a tight hug.

"We all are," Catherine echoed in agreement. I blush for only a moment before pulling away.

"Yeah," Jackson said with a slight nod. "Are you going to be okay if we take off, Mom?" He asked, glancing over at her.

"Of course, baby." She agreed.

Jackson bent down and kissed his mother a cheek, and I exchanged a quick hug and goodbye with her as well. She had proved again how seamlessly talented of a lawyer she was, even if Jackson hadn't needed that good of a defense on his side. He had been in the clear with his decision, after all. it had been Mark or me. Someone was bound to die that day.

"We should go out the back, it's going to be a madhouse out front," Jackson reminded me. I gave a quick nod of his head, hand reaching out for his and taking it.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, feet moving quickly to keep up with him.

"I'm not sure," he admitted with a slight shrug, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his head. "I guess it doesn't feel real that it's over, you know? I mean, I guess something like this is never really over. It's always going to hang over my head and I'm always going to be that detective." Jackson elaborated.

I hold back a sigh, giving a nod of your head. "I know exactly what you mean. We're… kind of in the same boat with that, for better or worse." I empathized with him quickly. Maybe that was a part of what made the two of us so good for each other. We understood things no one should.

"A little early to be teasing wedding vows, isn't it?" Jackson suggested with a raise of his eyebrows.

I shake my head, bumping against his hip. "You know what I mean."

"I do," he breathed out with a nod. "It's just a lot, either way. It's not the kind of position that you think you're going to be in. Not as a person, not as an officer. I came into this line of work because I wanted to make a positive difference in the world and my community."

"You can still make one, Jackson. You have made one." I insisted as we moved out toward the car.

"It's never going to be the same now, though. I'm a cop who shot a man." He sighed, shaking his head. I could tell that it was bugging him, far beyond the surface.

"An armed man who held a gun to a civilian's head. It was a justified shoot. And it was a complication from the surgery, too." I pointed out, wetting my lips.

"I don't think you get it."

I fall quiet for a moment as the two of us get into the car. This is supposed to be a celebratory day for the both of us, not something that we're supposed to argue over. That's how it had been in my head, at least. But reality always seemed to be different from the way that I pictured it to be, no matter what the circumstances were. Time had proven that over and over again.

"What about it?" I questioned, choosing to try and not take offense at the words.

"This job has been my entire life for so long how. It's everything to me. Growing up… you know, it wasn't easy being a young black kid in the city. I didn't have a dad. It was just me and my mom. A friend and their families, when times were good, sure. But it was really just me and her. And even though she was prominent and successful in her field... I was still a black kid. That was all that cops saw when they saw me as a kid." Jackson explained on, pausing as he turned out of the parking lot. "That's still all some people see of me. A black guy. I know the world's changing and getting better, but it's not perfect. There's still work and progress that needs to be made. I want to be a part of that progress. I don't want to be pushing back against it."

"This wasn't a racially charged shooting, Jackson. It was a… just a shooting. I don't mean to demean it because I know you're upset, but you have to understand that. This isn't about the color of your skin." I reached out, rubbing my hand along his arm.

"Not for you, sure. But for some people, it's always going to come down to that. That's just the way it is for me." Jackson explained patiently.

I sat on the information for a moment, chewing on my lip. It was something that we had never really gotten into before. I knew that Dallas was a liberal part of Texas but there were still disgusting people in the city – racists absolutely included. I'd seen Confederate flags before, portrayed as if they were normal and not a representation of so many things that were still wrong with the country.

"I'm sorry that I can't completely understand," I finally breathed out as I attempted to find the words. "But I'm here to listen. I'm here to help, however you need me to be, Jackson. I promise you that much. I'm not going anywhere."

This time, he was quiet. I was exposed. But I was trying not to make this about myself.

Letting go of the unsteady breath that I was holding onto, I glanced out the window. It took me a moment to realize that we weren't on the highway that I thought we were or should have been by now. We were still driving the streets of downtown. Maybe he wasn't as ready to go home as he thought he was. Or there had been something on his mind that he hadn't wanted to tell his mother yet.

"I know that you're not like that," Jackson finally spoke up, glancing over at me. "You're a good person, April. Through and through. Always have been and I'm pretty sure that you always will be, at this rate. That's something that I really believe in." I gave him a soft smile.

"Thank you," I started. "But so are you, Jackson. You're a strong, amazing man. A man who can make all of the change that he wants to in his community. A man that can be the face of change, if that's what he wants to do. So this happened. I'm sorry that it happened to you and I'm sorry that it happened because of me. I'm sorry that you had to make that choice in the first place because no one ever should have had to and I shouldn't have asked you to." I rambled on before I could ever think to stop myself. "You're a good man and this doesn't change that. Maybe you'll have to fight back against public perception even more than before, but you're still you on the inside and there's nothing in the world that can change that."

I could only hope and pray that he would believe me. No matter what happened, I thought that he was a good person. That he was smart and intelligent, rational and well-thought through everything that he did. That was just a fundamental part of who he was.

Or so I thought.

The train of my thinking slams to a stop when he finally parallel parked and I realized the building that we were outside of. It was my apartment building. The one that I hadn't slept in… well, I couldn't even remember the last time that I'd actually spent the night here. I'd all but moved in with him and it had been the most natural progression in the world.

"What are we doing here?" I questioned, swallowing my nerves as I turned myself toward him.

"April, I love you and I care about you. Extremely. But… but I think right now, the best thing that we can do and that I can do for myself is to take a break on our relationship. I just need some time, after everything." It's a short explanation, but it isn't sweet. Instead, it stings, salt in wounds that I'd thought were no longer fresh. It seemed like he had turned that around.

After all that we had been through together and come out the other side still side by side, I'd thought that we had reached some kind of mutual understanding with one another. That we had already made it through thick and thin, the worse part of better and worse… that we were one of those couples that were just meant to make it through the crap that the rest of the world could throw its way. I had been determined to think that we were one of that. That he wasn't like everything else. That he was able to handle all of the baggage that came with me. He had seemed so, so good at it for so long.

I guess I was wrong.

"Oh." I'm at a loss for words. I can't argue about it with him, though, not right now. It's too embarrassing to even try. My fingers fumbled as they reached for the door of the truck and quickly pushed it open, nearly stumbling to get it out. "Oh– okay."

Without getting another word out, I slammed the door of the truck shut and quickly ran inside.


	13. Chapter 13

**_ JACKSON _ **

It's the look on her face that forces me to realize what a mistake I've made.

I don't have the ability to decipher whether or not it's heartbreak, hurt, or anger that's written across her pale features. The three are so closely tied together and she looked at me for such a short period of time before she's running off inside of her apartment building, that I don't stand a chance at figuring out which exactly it was. Maybe it was a combination of all three. Maybe she just hated me. It didn't seem like I would be figuring it out any time soon.

Driving away is impossible and I sit there in idle until there's a car behind me, slamming down on their horn and indicating for me to get out of their way. I wave my hand in apology before beginning to drive away, glancing at the building in my rearview mirror.

It was the best thing for her. Maybe it wasn't for me and I was sure that it was going to take her some time to realize that, so maybe she would never fully understand what was I was doing was to protect her, but it was for her. This wasn't something that I wanted to do. This was something that I would have never wanted to do of my own free will.

But that choice had been taken from me, more or less. As the investigation into the shooting of Mark Kepner had progressed, I'd thought things were going fine. And they were. Until they weren't.

I had tried to shield her from the public eye and backlash from it as much as possible, but it had ultimately been impossible. All of it was public record, her last name made her easy to tie to Mark and Joseph. It didn't take a genius to make a connection, just an everyday reporter. Dallas managed to have plenty of those.

Silence was the only thing that I could manage on the drive home. The news was too much to deal with at the moment and somehow, no matter what song managed to play on the radio, it just seemed like all of the lyrics were about her. It was a damn cliche and I knew it, yet it had still managed to come true after everything. Rap, pop, eighties rock… somehow, my mind just went back to her every time. Even classical music. She liked to listen to it when she cooked, usually somehow managing to match it to the meal. She just managed to be one of those people who was everywhere that I looked.

By the time that I get home, I don't feel any better. I don't feel any more relaxed or content with the decision that I had been forced to make, either. She should have been right here with me, not alone and angry in her own apartment.

Glancing down at my phone with the small hope that maybe she had sent me some kind of text after the abrupt way that I ended things with her, I'm not disappointed when I see the message that was waiting for me to view it. Instead, I'm enraged.

[Received: Unknown] You've done what I asked.  
[Received: Unknown] But don't think that I've stopped watching either of you.

In a fit of rage, I throw my phone. All it does is hit the window and fall into the passenger seat next to it. I give it a brief glance. It's not broken and for a moment I wish that it was, just so those blaring messages weren't looking right back at me.

That night, I don't sleep.

Nor do I the next night.

When sleep does find me, it's not restful or relaxing in the way that it should be after having such a case lifted off my shoulders. Because the truth is, it wasn't done. It was far from being over.

The text messages had begun a few days after Mark's death. I had tried tracing the number and it ended up ultimately useless – it changed here and there, but each time it was a burner phone. I'd initially tried to get Shepherd in on it, but that had been shut down quickly. I didn't know who was in on it, or how. But I'd been more paranoid now than ever. It gave me some insight into how April must have been living when she knew that there was someone who was actively trying to kill her. Except they hadn't been threatening my life. If that had been the case, well, I probably wouldn't have reacted in the way that I had. I probably wouldn't have complied.

But the fact that it was April's life that they are threatening, well, that had changed everything. It had forced me to take things seriously. It had become apparent too quickly that they knew more than they should have, and I'd had no idea how they could have known that. I'd looked into her younger sisters again, given I'd only skimmed over the basic information had come up in the preliminary investigation of who was hunting April, and it ended up falling flat.

Threats against her had been made clear. Whoever was doing this knew about the intimate relationship between the two of us – pictures sent had made that more than clear. They knew where I lived, where she lived. Yet it had been made clear. Break her heart, or he breaks her spine.

There's no reason in the world for me to believe that he would keep his promise, but I couldn't consciously keep putting her in even more danger than perhaps what she needed to be in. I needed to do what I could to protect her, even if it meant hurting her for a little bit. I had to take care of her. She would understand that once all of the truth came out. She would forgive me. That was something I had to believe.

With everything going on in my head still circulating around Mark's case, I can't bring myself to focus completely on the next one that comes across my desk. Shepherd ends up putting in most of the work. He's got other things to blame it on, things that aren't the truth.

"Avery, come on man. Where's your head at?" Derek barked at me.

I shook my head, letting out a breath as if it was an apology. I can't give him an answer that he wanted. No matter how many days passed, I can't stop thinking about it. It's not like I haven't seen April. I have. That only contributed to my obsession. She was still here, still coming to work every day. I'd caught a few gazes here and there, and I knew that she had caught more than what was fair from me. I missed her so fucking much and I can't say a word about it.

"You've been like this for weeks. You ever gonna say that's going on?" He continued to speak, but this time there was something a little more genuine in his gaze and tone of voice.

"I…" I start to speak, taking a deep breath. "I don't know what to tell you, man." A clear lie.

"If this was a one-day thing, I might believe that piss poor attempt at a lie that you're giving me. You're worse than the criminals that we arrest. Think you'd learn a thing or two from all the crap that they give us." Shepherd leaned across his desk toward me, giving a brief glance around. "This about Kepner dumping you?"

"What?" I blurted out, blinking a few times.

"I mean, I figured that's what happened. You don't spend every free moment going down there and flirting with her like you used to. Whenever you're in the same room, both of you look like you're about to implode. You're moping. Just putting the pieces together."

Running my hand over my face, I'm not sure what to say. "She didn't break up with me," I finally said after what felt like a few impossibly long seconds. "I broke up with her."

"Well, why the hell did you do that if you're going to just act miserable all the time?"

The very question that I had been avoiding telling anyone.

Yet enough time had passed that I wasn't sure if I could keep it in any longer. The texts had become more sporadic instead of the regular and compulsive nature that they had been at first as if the person had lost interest. It seemed like a good thing, by most accounts. Yet even knowing that I hadn't been able to calm the hairs on the back of my neck, the chills that I got in the few moments that I took to unlock the front door of my house when I got home each day. No matter what, it seemed to be impossible for me to shake.

"Come here," I motioned him to follow me as I got up from our desks and walked over to one of the interrogation rooms so no one else would be able to hear us converse.

Once the door was shut behind us, I let out a deep breath. "What I'm about to say stays here, alright?"

"Sure," Shepherd nodded his head. "What's going on?"

"Over the last two months, ever since I shot Mark Kepner, I've been getting a series of text messages from burner phones." I handed him over my phone with my texts open for him to scroll through. "I tried tracing them and they went nowhere. Whoever's sending it, this guy was working with Mark. He's threatened April. He was stalking her, us – before the shooting even took place." I explained, trying to be both thorough and concise. I didn't want it to be a long conversation in case anyone came looking for us.

"Why haven't you told anyone about this?" He asked without looking up from my phone, clearly scrolling through some of the different messages and reading through them himself.

"Threatened April. It wasn't a chance that I was willing to take. I figured the best bet was break up with her now, trying to wait for this to blow over, then get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness at the first chance that I get." I admitted, leaning back on the table with both hands resting on top of it.

Derek fell quiet for a moment, his brows furrowed deep in thought. I'd already run what I considered to be all the scenarios through my head, and I was sure that he was going through the same process right now. But I couldn't imagine that he would be able to come up with something entirely new. I'd already torn up every possibility. Otherwise, I would have stopped sitting around and actually acted upon it.

"This is a lot," he finally remarked.

I snorted out loud. "Yeah, you're telling me that."

"You should have gone to someone sooner. You know that this isn't going to be anyone in the department. You could have at least let Webber in on it. I'm sure that he'd be able to come up with something." Derek handed my phone back over to me as he spoke. "And you know that you should have told Kepner. It's not like she'd go running to tell the world about it, not with this kind of thing."

"I know." I'd thought about that a hundred times over and over again, both before making the decision and continuing to do so after. I hadn't been able to settle down on whether or not I had made the right decision.

"So what are you going to do about it now? I mean, you told me for a reason, right?" He inquired with a raised brow.

A fair question, but not one that I had an answer too, not right off the bat. I wished I did. I'd wanted that for weeks now, after all. It had become exhausting to try and keep the information to myself. Even if Averys were supposed to be good at keeping secrets of their own and of everyone else's, always keeping a face on for the world to see, that didn't mean that it was easy. It was just how I was raised. But I didn't want to always be an Avery. I didn't want to be defined by that and that alone. Maybe that meant I needed to stray even further from the family name. Career wasn't enough. I needed to really be my own person.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I want to tell her. I don't know how I'm going to get her alone to talk to her – let alone without anyone noticing. I have no idea when he's watching."

"Well, all the pictures here, they're of the two of you at home. I'm gonna go ahead and say that the chance of him being in the building right now is pretty low. Besides, we've got a case and she's the medical examiner on it. There's your excuse right there." He pointed out the obvious. "Go. Figure it out. You have to do it eventually."

I glanced down at my phone, chewing on my lower lip. Deep in my gut, I had the feeling that he was right about this. "Yeah, alright," I muttered with a nod of my head, pocketing my phone as I headed out of the interrogation room.

Stepping out of the room, I nearly collide directly into Dr. Hunt.

"Ah– sorry about that." I apologized habitually, taking a step back to put an appropriate amount of distance between myself and the other male. "What's going on, Hunt?" I asked.

"Had a break on the case. Came to get you." He answered with a shrug of broad shoulders. "Follow me downstairs?"

With a nod of my head, I quickly follow him downstairs to the lab. A part of me was looking a little forward to talking to April and finally getting to explain what had really been going on in my head when I had left her outside her apartment building that night. I had never really gotten to talk to her, not one on one or personally since it had happened. She'd avoided me just as much as I had avoided her, and I couldn't blame her for it. I could get this out of the way and then do my best to pull her aside without making too much of a scene, hopefully. That was all I really wanted. Something as simple as talking to her was suddenly a hugely exciting prospect.

The elevator doors open after a quiet ride and we both step out of it. I look around immediately, hoping to catch a glimpse of red hair already out and about. She must have been in her office because I don't immediately spot it.

"So, what's–"

Before I could get the rest of my question out, there's a sharp pain in my lower back and I stumbled forward to try and catch myself.

"What the fuck–" I shouted out.

A fist collided with my face almost immediately after I had managed to get the words out and it's the thing that sent me spinning and falling onto the floor with a loud thud. At that point, there's no longer any room to question exactly what was going on.

Owen Hunt was standing over me, a bloodied scalpel in his hands. I hadn't thought that I needed to be paranoid and on high alert for a few moments, and yet suddenly, everything managed to fall into place. How someone had been able to monitor both of our movements all the times and conversations that had never made it entirely into the public sphere, how they had known all of the details of the case and the shooting of Mark Kepner. How the two knew each other, I didn't know. But he was an insider. An insider who had managed to fly under the radar for all this time. And he had been here with April, every step of the way. He'd probably seen and spoken to her more in the past few weeks that I had.

The realization is more than enough to sicken me completely. Everything that I thought I had been doing had only worked completely against the both of us. Now he was here to prove it.

"I bet that you thought you could get away with spilling out all of our little secrets to Shepherd, huh? Thought the two of you and your little boy's club, all you fancy detectives, so much better than everyone else… You really thought that you'd be able to figure this out. You're even more of an idiot than I gave you credit for. Everyone thinks that it's the detectives who do all the work, but no. It's someone like me." Owen ranted on.

"What the fuck…" I should have been able to come up with something more, but for a moment, I can. I half lift up, placing my hand on my back. When I pulled my hand away to look at it, it's covered in my own blood. I could have reasoned that in my head, but it's different to see it there.

"You might be a detective, but you're very good at missing the things that are right in front of you," Owen commented with a shake of his head. "But I'll make sure you don't miss this."

"Miss what?" I questioned with a groan, falling back against my hand to try and put some pressure on the bleeding.

"How I'm going to kill April. It's going to be right in front of you. You won't be able to miss a damn thing, I'll make sure of that." The grin on his lips was that of a maniac. One that I rarely ever saw, even in my work, yet I didn't have a doubt that he had somehow gone completely out of his mind. To have not seen it in him sooner, I felt like a complete fool.

"Motherfucker!"

Surging momentarily with energy, I try to sit up and lung for one of his legs to pull him down, hoping to make enough noise that I would draw April or someone else's attention to the situation so that they could get help. Instead of succeeding in the way that I want to, though, his foot collides with my ribcage and knocks the air completely out of my lungs.

"You really don't think that's going to work for you, do you?" Another laugh fell from Owen's lips after the words, shaking his head. His foot slammed into my ribcage again and I could have sworn that I heard some kind of crack associated with it.

"April! Run!" I shouted out, trying to alert her to what was going on before she could get too involved.

"You should have followed the rules, Detective Avery. You could have saved yourself and Dr. Kepner a lot of trouble if you had. But you just had to go off running your mouth. Did you really think that no one would overhear you just because you were in an interrogation room?" The more that he spoke, the more that I could feel the blood absolutely boiling inside of me. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and bash his head in. Even if my reputation had barely just been saved about brutality and use of force with Mark Kepner, I'm willing to ruin it all over again when it came to dealing with him. It would be worth it.

As he turned his back on me presumably to try and get April, I know that I can't just lay here and do nothing, no matter how much pain I was in. I was still bleeding and my rib might have been broken, but it didn't matter. I had to do something to try and help her.

Pushing myself up to my feet as quickly as I could muster, there's a slight spin in my head and vision presumably from the blood loss, but I ignore it. I see a flash of red hair beginning to come into the room and I know that I had to do something to stop it before she could get within his reach. As Owen quickly began to approach her, I lunged and tackled him, the both of us hitting the ground loud and hard.

"Jackson, what the hell are you doing?" She squeaked out when she saw the two of us.

"April, you need to run! Get the hell out of here!" I barked the orders without offering any explanation, struggling to try and get him in a chokehold. I'd lost more blood than what I predicted given the way that I was struggling, barely getting a glimpse at the droplet trail that I had left behind.

"He's lying!" Owen disagreed. "He just attacked me for no reason! Call security, Dr. Kepner, please!" Owen attempted to plead with her, no doubt hoping the breakup would put her on his side.

April stared at the both of us, confusion was written all over her face and eyes wide as she tried to figure out what to do. Instead of doing anything, though, she remained in place. Dammit.

"Jackson, get off– w– you're bleeding!" As she came to the realization that the blood was coming from me and not Owen, it seemed like things managed to click into place for her. But her words distract me for just long enough that Owen managed to flip over and take control of the situation, getting me down against the floor and pinning the scalpel that he had previously stabbed me with against the flesh of my neck.

"Alright, April, I think it's time for you to listen to me very carefully." Owen started with his threat as he looked up from me to her. "You're going to take the handcuffs off of Detective Avery's belt, and you're going to place them on yourself. Hands behind your back." He instructed.

With wide eyes, she froze and stared at the both of us, unsure what to do or say. It's not until the blade of the scalpel pressed against my skin a little tighter and a bead of blood was drawn to the surface that she quickly moved, pulling them off of my belt. I want her to not listen, to fight back, regardless of the threat that barely had any separation between the sharp blade of the knife and my carotid artery.

Much to my temporary relief, she does.

After removing the handcuffs from my belt, April's gaze flickered between the both of us and she gave a mighty shove at Owen. The blade of the scalpel nicked my cheek as he stumbled against the force of her shove, but ultimately, she's still small – there's only so much that she could push.

"What the fuck did I say?" Owen barked at her, reaching over and grabbing a fistful of her hair, apparently tight from the wincing expression on her face. "Handcuff yourself. Now. Or I'll kill him before I kill you." He threatened.

Her hands are visibly shaking as she latched one of the cuffs around her wrist, twisting both of her arms behind her back and I could hear the other one clink into place as well. He had her right where he wanted her.

I've never been prone to panic or anxiety attacks, yet at the moment, I could feel the edge of one coming on. The only thing that was managing to keep me calm at all was the lack of blood in my system from the loss keeping me just a little bit dizzy, a little sedated and slow in my reaction. My heart was already pounding in my chest to try and make up for it, but it didn't matter. Not when the panic over the situation was kicking in as hard and fast as it was. I had to do something and I had to do it fast. He had already made his plan clear and there was no way that I could let something like that happen to her. Not after I had spent all this time miserable with the single goal of protecting her. She deserved better than that. She deserved to finally have a life, one that wasn't defined by who she was or where she came one, one where she didn't have to constantly look over her shoulder and see who was coming for her.

"Atta girl," Owen clucked his tongue in approval at her like he was a dog.

With his attention temporarily off of me, I do my best to shift, eyeing everything in my immediate surroundings to try and figure out how I was going to approach this. There's not a lot within grabbing distance. The taste of blood was now in my mouth, but I hoped it was from the slice on my cheek and nothing internal.

"Now, here's the deal. You were going to get the chance to live out a full life, April, you really were. I didn't want to have to do this to you. But unfortunately, Detective Avery over here took away my choice." Owen began to speak.

"What are you talking about? Owen– you're, you're being crazy. But it's not too late to turn back, okay? Just uncut me and we can figure this all out before anyone gets hurt." April pleaded with him.

"Unfortunately, that's no longer an option. Jackson, why don't you tell her what I'm talking about?" He looked over at me.

Instead of justifying him with an answer, though, all I can do is glare at him.

"Not feeling talkative? Oh well." Owen sighed, shaking his head. "See, I made a deal with him. I wouldn't touch you as long as we had a few secrets kept between the two of us. I had him break up with you, keep you out of the loop… and you could have stayed like that, perfectly happy and perfectly safe, without a care in the world. But Mr. Big Mouth over here had to go running off to Detective Shepherd, just dying to spill a secret… except you'll be dead because of it too." He continued.

"That's why you broke up with me?" April questioned as she looked past him and right at me with wide eyes, a mixture of panic and now sudden sadness was written across her expression.

I gave a nod of my head, unable to say yes directly to what she was asking. It was the only reason in the world that I would ever bother to do something like that because I knew it was better for her at least in the immediate future, even if she hadn't been able to see that from now. But I still had to find a way to get out of this situation. I couldn't let her get hurt or die because of me. Not now. "I'm sorry." It was the only thing I could manage.

"Oh, you will be," Owen let out with a shake, grinning at the both of us. "Now isn't this a sweet moment between the two of you? A little dying confession, the last chance to know the truth. Too bad you won't be able to act upon it."

One last sweep of my eyes around the room to try and find something, and a glint of bloodied metal caught my gaze. The bloody scalpel. Of course.

When April had shoved on him and the blade had dragged painfully across my cheek, it had slipped from his hands and he had been too occupied with getting April under control that he hadn't bothered to grab it again. Now it was just sitting out. Waiting for the chance to use it.

I caught April's gaze as Owen continued to rant on about what he was planning to do to the both of us, intentionally tuning him out for a moment so I could actually focus without being completely consumed by rage for everything that he was saying. It took a moment to get her to actually realize why I was tilting my head and moving my gaze so insistently, trying to get her to look at the scalpel. All it would take was the right distraction, and Owen was going on like a madman. That shouldn't have been hard.

"Hey, asshole!" It's an easy enough start and he turned to face me immediately.

"Oh, so now you want to say something?" He replied.

"Yeah, yeah, you're fuckin' right I do," I spoke. As I began to talk, April quietly began to move over in the direction of it. I wasn't sure what she was going to manage to do with her hands behind her back, but she was closer to it, and it was going to be less predictable coming from her. "You really think this is gonna work? That you're going to get away with all of this? You're in a goddamn police precinct. There are cameras down here. Even if you manage to kill the both of us, you'll be lucky if you even get removed from this building, 'cause the first place that you're going to go is right into the body bag." I ranted on.

Before Owen had his chance to open his mouth on the subject, April acted. Turning around quickly with the scalpel in her hands, I'm not sure how she manages to do it, but he makes a sudden noise of pain and began to cough up blood.

"You little whore–" He growled out, whipping around and backhanding April hard enough to knock her over.

Taking advantage of my position from the floor, my foot hits him hard in the back of the knee and takes his legs out from under him. When he falls, he lands on his back, shoving the scalpel even further inside of him.

Only a few moments pass of him choking on his own blood before he finally stopped.

"Is he?" I asked, raising my eyebrows as I looked up to April.

She crawled over on her hands and knees toward him, pressing her fingers into his neck and trying to feel for a pulse. It's a few long and still moments as she assessed the condition of the body and she doesn't say a word before giving a nod of her head, confirming the fact that now Owen Hunt was dead. Finally, it seemed like the worst of the case was over.

But things weren't always what they seemed.

"Jackson!"

April's name desperately calling out for me was the last thing that I heard before finally blacking out.


	14. Chapter 14

**_ APRIL _ **

"Jackson, Jackson."

My hands gripped onto his shoulder and gave a little shake to try and bring some form of consciousness back to him, more panic beginning to flood my system. Everything about this situation had been confusing until it had been too late to change it.

"Come on, Jackson. I'm right here. You're going to be fine. I promise you're going to be fine." I didn't know if I was trying to convince him or myself about it.

Lifting him up to try and put pressure on the wound on his back, the blood from stabbing Owen began to look the exact same as the blood that was coming out of him now. It's hard to keep my hands still because of it, but I know that I need help. I may have had a medical degree, but my training after school was with the dead, not the living. I'm not equipped to give him the medical help and expertise that he needed at the moment. Someone else needed to get down here now.

So I do the only thing that I can think to do.

I scream.

As if I was the wounded in this situation, I scream and howl like there's no tomorrow, begging for help and for attention, for more hands, for someone to call 911 for an ambulance. Screaming inside of a police station, fortunately, does not go unnoticed easily, and a few officers end up rushing downstairs with their guns drawn to try and see what was going on. When they realize it's already been resolved by my own bloody hands and that I'm not the perpetrator, however, guns are put away.

One of the younger uniforms, Karev I think his name was, is the one who finally pulled me away to let some of the other officers take over putting pressure on the wound to try and keep him from bleeding out all over the floor. His arms wrap around mine just enough to pin my arms down because my instinct is to fight him, to get back to Jackson and do everything in my power to make sure that he's okay. To try and stop the death and destruction that seemed to just radiate from me from taking him away from me, from rising the one good thing that I had left in my life.

Even if hours ago, I was still upset with him for breaking things off with me so out of the blue. I hadn't even been able to be in the same room from him. But now any distance at all seemed like far too much, especially considering how much had been forced between us from Owen.

Paramedics arrive after what seemed like far too long and I watch as they work quickly to get him onto the gurney and back to the ambulance. They're talking quickly and things don't sound good.

I follow as far as they'll let me, standing alone outside of the police station for a moment. The sun beat down on my face with brutal heat and I can feel my skin boil almost instantly, perspiration appearing, and yet I don't move to get back inside the air-conditioned building. I can't. It's as if my feet had turned to cement, my stomach an anchor with the weight there.

"April." It's the first time that I've heard Detective Shepherd address me by my first name.

"Wh–I…" I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say.

"You know that I need to get a statement from you for what happened. I'm gonna go ahead and guess that it's a pretty clear case of self-defense, and there are cameras down there to back that up." Derek placed a hand on my shoulder, dropping his head down to get to my level. "I should take you in right now, but I'm not gonna do that. Let me take you to the hospital, okay? They're taking him to Texas Health Pres, over on Walnut Hill. I'll drive you."

Moving in what felt more like autopilot mode than any conscious autonomy of my body, I let Jackson's partner take me to his car and get into the passenger seat without another word. I feel like I'm going to be sick. I nearly asked him to pull over so I can dry heave, but my voice is gone.

My hand was so tight against the handle on the door that my knuckles turned an even more ghastly shade of white compared to my normally pale skin tone, ready to throw myself out of the vehicle the second that it came to a stop. The grip is the only thing that kept my body from shaking visibly, even if it already felt like the remaining pieces on my inside were vibrating.

When his car came to a stop, I lurch myself from the vehicle without so much of a word of thanks to him. I'm grateful – but gratitude would have to come later. I needed to know if he was still alive.

Hospitals are a maze to me, but there's at least a reception desk to hound immediately upon entering.

"Excuse me." My manners are gone as I step up without regard for anyone else there, needing the information now. I couldn't wait another second. "Excuse me, I need information. Detective Jackson Avery – he was brought in here earlier by an ambulance and I need to know if he's okay."

A glare is the first thing I receive from a nurse. "Ma'am, you're going to need to wait in line–"

"No, no, he's a police officer. A Dallas police officer. A detective. I need to know if he's alright, I'm the chief medical examiner." I fumble to try and get my identification badge like it might have some pull here, but before I have to, someone else stepped in.

"Dr. Kepner." A young looking officer that I don't recognize stepped in and placed his hand on my elbow. "Come with me."

I blink a few times but blindly listen to him, stepping away to where he pulled me. Maybe I shouldn't, given that Owen had proved how easy it was to have someone completely nasty on the inside, but I'm too stunned and terrified by everything that was happening to use any of my critical thinking skills.

"What– what's going on?" My gaze dropped to his name tag. "Where is he, Officer Deluca?"

"The doctor just came out and gave us an update. They're taking him up for surgery. The stab wound in his knife nicked one of the arteries leading to his kidney which has caused a lot of damage. Apparently, he might lose the kidney." He explained with a deep furrow of his eyebrows, clearly bothered by the information but not emotional or alarmed over it. Maybe he didn't know Jackson. But no one knew him the way that I did.

"Just one kidney? People… people can live without a kidney." I knew that. And getting a kidney, even if he somehow lost both, wasn't the hardest or more uncommon organ donation. It could be fine. He could be fine.

"Yeah. The doc talked about that and uh, how do you say it – hypovolemic shock?"

I nodded my head quickly with wide eyes.

"Yeah, that. That and shock. His heart was going really fast on the monitor that they had hooked up to him and then they lost a pulse." He continued to speak about it as if it was all casual. Like the weather.

Even though I shouldn't be, the way that he talked about it was making me unreasonably angry. It was if he didn't care, just rattling off a repetition of what he had heard with no concern in the world. It wasn't the way that doctors talked to patients. It wasn't the way that police officers talked to the loved one of victims, either. Maybe he was new to the force or didn't have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, but I could feel myself becoming angrier and angrier the more that I stared at him. He was just hanging around here like it was nothing.

Without thinking, I burst past the doors that say Staff Only, determined to find and see him for myself. I knew I couldn't walk into an O.R. But maybe I could at least talk to a doctor or nurse who had set their own eyes on him, see if I could sneak my way into a gallery or some kind of room to just see the surgery. Just enough to know that he was alive.

"Excuse me, ma'am, you can't be back here!" Some nurse shouted at me.

Ignoring the sound of the woman's voice, I look around madly for signs that would try and get me in the right direction. Words aren't seeming to make nearly as much sense to me at the moment. That was a shock of my own kicking in – but it was substantially less vital than hypovolemic shock. It didn't seem to matter, not in comparison.

A hand is placed on my shoulder and I flinch hard in response, turning with wild eyes to see who's touched me. It's a woman in dark scrubs, a few years older than me with dirty blonde hair.

"You're April, aren't you? Dr. April Kepner?" She asked.

I gave a jerky nod of the head, my mouth suddenly too dry to be able to speak.

"Here, come with me, alright? I'm Meredith. Dr. Meredith Grey. I'm Derek's wife." Her hand moved from my shoulder to upper back to guide me somewhere." He called and let me know that you were coming. He said that Jackson's very important to you."

"He is," I whispered.

"He's in surgery right now. And they've got some very, very talented hands in there, so you don't need to worry about it, okay? Jackson's going to be just fine." She opened up the door to a lounge, stepping in and I followed her. I nearly collapsed into a chair, holding my head in my arms. "I like him a lot too, you know. He's a good guy. Derek wasn't sure about him when they first became partners, but he seems to be doing pretty well with all of it."

"He's really good." I can't speak in anything louder than a hush, but I'm not entirely silent.

Instead, tears begin pouring out. One, two, then a torrential downpour that couldn't be tamed. The sobs were far from pretty or poetic, just broken. My hands curled into tight fists before pounding once against the table, trying to gain control, hissing through my teeth. Something between a sob and a scream was stuck in my throat, begging for release, but my lips remained pressed painfully together. My lungs begged and pleaded with my brain for oxygen, and yet the sobbing had the same force of someone drowning. I was drowning.

Meredith doesn't say a word, doesn't try to stop what can't be controlled. As the wife of a police officer, I'm sure that she knew fear. But I wasn't his wife. Technically, I wasn't even his girlfriend anymore. That didn't seem to matter anymore.

As the minutes slowly drag on, I run out of tears to cry. I can feel a headache begin to pound in my temple from it and I know it's not going to go away any time soon, because I can't see myself getting control of my emotions any time soon. They would go hand in hand. Maybe once I knew that he was safe, I could find a way to calm myself back down again. Like he would want.

"Can you go see how he's doing? Please?" I finally asked, looking up at her.

Meredith nodded her head and got up from the table, leaving me alone for a moment. I wipe the skin under my eyes to try and get rid of the tears and some of the mascara that had run, and I'm sure that regardless, I look like a complete mess. I don't care. I had the right to. When the door opened and she entered again, I pushed the chair around quickly to face her.

"He's still in surgery, but they're on the tail end of it. They did have to take out one of his kidneys. But they've given him plenty of transfusions and intravenous crystalloids to help compensate for the loss and stabilize him." Meredith explained. I don't need her to dumb it down for me.

"So he's going to be okay?" I asked.

"It looks to be that way." She answered.

I let go of the breath that I hadn't realized I was holding onto in the first place, finally able to unclench my fist. More tears fell out of my eyes, the few that still remained, but this time they're not coming from a place of being completely heartbroken. Just a little less, like one piece had been taped back into place, but it was at least a starting point.

"When can I see him?" The next step. The next thing that I absolutely needed.

"After he gets out of surgery, I can take you up to his room. It shouldn't be too much longer." She answered. "I need to go check on some of my patients, but I'll come and get you when he's ready for visitors, okay? You can stay here. If anyone asks, just tell them that I put you here. I'm the Head of General. They have to listen to me."

"Thank you." I reached out for her hand for just a brief moment, giving it a tight squeeze to try and show some gratitude for how she had gone out of her way for me.

She gave me a smile for a brief moment before walking out of the room. When I'm alone again, I lean forward onto the table and let my head rest there. There's no way that time was about to pass quickly, I knew that much. If the kidney was already removed when she had come in, though, they should have been closing him up. Which meant he would be in a room of his own soon enough. I would get to talk to him soon.

My eyes shut and I find myself in a dreamless state of sleep, covered in goosebumps from the chill of the room. All I could think about was him, how he was doing. But the terrible possibilities stay at bay in the few moments of shuteye that I manage to get in between.

When Meredith finally came to get me, being told that Jackson was awake and responsive in his room was a better jet of energy than any cup of coffee or a shot of espresso. I'm practically on top of her heels following her up to his room, needing this moment more than anything else.

A moment alone is offered and I accept without hesitation. Placing my hand on the door handle to enter his room, I take a deep breath, bracing myself. I don't have a lot of experience with hospitals, not since I had finished with rotations in med school. It's a little jittering to be in one on this side of the spectrum, though, knowing someone that I cared for and loved was on the other side of the door, connected to machines and likely an IV. It's a seed that's hard to swallow. But he was okay. He was here, which was better than being on my end of the spectrum.

"Jackson?" I whispered his name, half terrified to be heard and half terrified he won't hear me.

"H–Hey." His throat was dry and I moved quickly to pour a cup of water from the pitcher on his table, guiding it over to his lips and holding it as he took a few mouthfuls of water down.

"How do you feel?" I asked, brow furrowing as my gaze swept over him. I can't see anything with his patient gown and the blankets covering him, but I'm dying to know for myself. "Are you cold? Hot? Do you need more water?" Questions pour from my lips.

"Slow down," Jackson murmured. "M'just tired. That's all. But I'm okay."

Pulling over one of the plastic chairs and listening to it squeal across the linoleum floor, I get it as close as possible to his bed before sitting down next to him. A smile twitched across my cheeks for a brief moment and I forced a nod of my head. I didn't want to look too worried, but I knew that was a mission that I had already failed. I was normally good at keeping on a facade, but Jackson had always been one of the few people who were capable of seeing through it at all times. My hands wrap around one of his, taking a deep breath and releasing it. He was warm and alive, heart beating steadily on the monitor. All signs pointed to him being just fine now.

"I'm so sorry, Jackson. This is all my fault. I'm… I'm your bad luck charm." I began to ramble, the words starting to spill from my lips. Fortunately, he cut me off before I could say anything more.

"Stop that. Stop that right now, April. This is not your fault." Jackson began. "This is not your fault and you should know that. You didn't make the decision. They did. That was all on them. I'm sorry that this has happened to you, and I'm sorry that we've now both gotten hurt about it, but you can't walk around with guilt on your shoulders. The only people who should feel guilty about it are dead." His voice had managed to find some strength, and I have to imagine he's a little annoyed with my habit of blaming myself. It's hard not to. Not when you have a last name as infamous as mine.

I don't want to fight with him right now. There's a part of me that wanted to believe him, too, that wanted to stop associating myself with my last name. It was exhausting. I felt like I'd never really get to be a person of my own as long as I lingered in my past and everything that was there.

"Okay." I agreed with a smile that practically resembled a grimace, dropping my head down and letting my forehead resting against his hand. "Okay," I repeated the syllable once more, letting go of a breath.

"You need to believe it, April. Not just say it because you think it's what I want to hear." Jackson murmured.

"I know. I'm trying." And I was. It was just difficult to find something more solid to cling to. "I am."

His hand squeezed mine. "I believe you."

For a few minutes, the two of us just sit there, holding each other's hands and grateful to be in one another's presence. Maybe there would be some residual bitterness about the breakup and the lies by omission that had come along with it, but that could be saved for another time, another time when the appreciation for the mere fact that he was alive was less consuming.

I don't want to leave his side. I don't ever want to leave his side again, no matter what threat was lurking around the corner. But with my half-brother gone, and now with Owen gone… maybe the two of us could finally have a little peace and quiet from the chaos.

The door to his room opened and I turned my head to see who it was, giving a slight smile. It was Catherine and Derek. Two other people who cared about him just as much as I did.

"Hi," I sniffled loudly as I straightened up, wiping at my eyes.

"Hey, guys." Jackson greeted them.

"I cannot even begin to believe…" Catherine started. "All of this nonsense!"

It didn't take long for Catherine to begin to go off on a rant as she rushed to the other side of Jackson's bed. I straighten up, not wanting to hog him completely. Even if I feel the compulsive need to be by his side right now, I don't want to interfere between him and his mother. I knew how important their relationship was. I wouldn't get in the way.

"Kepner, why don't we step out for a minute? Give them some time alone." Derek's voice pulled me away from his thoughts. I looked at the two of them for a moment before giving a shaky nod.

Standing up from the chair, I leave it there so that Catherine can take it, and follow him out of the room. I knew that there were still things that we would have to discuss from the incident. Statements, paperwork, proof. It was a good thing that there were cameras all over the police station that would substantiate both my story and Jackson's.

The door is pulled shut behind us and I don't stray far, moving to lean against the wall across from the room. The blinds are drawn shut, but I can at least imagine what things look like on the other side.

"We pulled the footage of what happened. Got Owen stabbing Jackson, threatening you. The district attorney will look over it tomorrow, but right now, there's not going to be any charges filed in the case. It's straightforward. No need to indict." Derek explained.

It's a relief to hear. Self-defense trials were hard if they actually made it to court because only the borderline catastrophe cases actually made it to court. It was high-stakes. I had worked in the career long enough to know that. When it was clear cut, it ended like this. When people used it as an attempt at a get out of jail free card, well, I wouldn't want to be in the latter. Especially not against any decent lawyer.

"Thank you," I breathed out, lips barely spreading open in a genuine smile.

"Of course," Derek nodded. "How did he seem in there? I didn't want to intrude on the time with his mom."

I nodded my head. Rubbing my hands against the side of my thighs, I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. Now's the time to be calm. Jackson was okay. I would be okay – it wouldn't be as complicated as Jackson's investigation after he had shot Mark Kepner. This was something that could, more or less, be swept under the rug.

Yet I don't feel entirely settled no matter how I can justify it in my head, even no matter how the law can wipe it away and refrain from punishing me for it. There were some things that maybe I just couldn't escape. My family name, the legacy that came with it, that seemed to be one of them. I had nearly hurt Serena. And now I had actually killed someone. It was like I had solidified my way into the family by taking a life like now I would never be able to get away from it. Maybe it had been what Mark had wanted. Maybe Owen hadn't even known and that had been his plan all along. I would never know the truth, but I would always have to live with this.

"He's okay." I wasn't sure what else to say. "I.. I talked to your wife. Thank you for telling her that I was here. She was kind." I smiled for just a brief moment. "I think he'll be okay. He's… tough. And we're going to get back together. It spilled, why he broke up with me."

Of course, I hadn't technically discussed that with him. But I was sure that it was going to be fine. It had been a struggle the past few weeks to go back and forth around him, and I had seen that he appeared to be equally miserable with the way that things were going. He hadn't kicked me out of the room first thing, either. We would be fine. Together.

"Good," Derek nodded his head. "I'm gonna find Mer and head out – I just wanted to bring his mom here, but I'll be back tomorrow. Don't be too hard on him."

I take his hand and shake it firmly once. giving a small squeeze before letting him go.

Not wanting to interrupt things between him and his mother, but not wanting to go anywhere, I remain standing outside the door. My stomach growled with hunger and coffee was becoming tempting, but I don't want to go anywhere. Even just a wall between us felt like too much.

Pacing to keep myself from becoming too restless with waiting, I realized I could just barely hear the conversation that was going on the other side of the door. Catherine was talking a lot, unsurprisingly, and I couldn't really hear Jackson saying anything in particular.

"I liked April. I thought she was charming and nothing like her family. But I think even now you know, that girl is nothing but trouble, baby. She almost got you killed. You already had to give a kidney for her. How much more are you going to give?" Catherine spoke on the other side of the wall, and I could feel my stomach drop into the deepest pit of despair. "You deserve a better life than that. A life without trouble. You've already had enough."

It was one thing when I was the one saying things like that. It's like the way that you make fun of yourself – you can make your own remarks, but when someone else breaks out with the same disparaging comment, it breaks your heart in a different way. I shouldn't have been surprised that she wouldn't say these things to my face. Or maybe I should have been. It's hard to know. I had trusted her. Another person added to the list of those who had let me down. I don't know why I bothered to be surprised anymore.

I wait and wait, minutes ticking by impossibly slow as she continued. Jackson spoke up to my defense, but it's a short-lived conversation, quickly switching to another topic. I can't decide if that's for the best or the worst of my eavesdropping ears.

The door opens and I nearly jump even though there's no proof that I had been listening in, staring at Catherine with wide eyes as she stepped out, appearing perfectly composed. She offered me a smile that I already knew was fake, even if it was hard to tell with the way that she wore it. She really was good at putting on an act.

"Oh, you're still here." She commented. "I'm going home for the night – Jackson needs his rest for the night, so I hope that you will, too. I'm sure you have plenty to worry about at the moment."

"They're not pressing charges," I commented. "Self defense. Video proved it, and I'm sure Jackson's side of the story will too." My comment is a little bitter after overhearing her. "Right now, he's all that I'm worried about. Have a good night, Catherine."

Without giving her another moment of my time, I step into his room and shut the door behind me. It felt good to stand up for myself, even just for the briefest of moments.

But ultimately, the feeling does go away as I can't get her words and my own out of my head again. I was always going to be a Kepner. It was something that I was never going to be able to rid myself of, a mark of shame, my own personal scarlet letter. Just like we thought the first victim had carved into her – but mine didn't need to be physical for me to be stigmatized about it. All it would ever take was an introduction, someone who paid attention to the news. Maybe people would forget about it over time, and maybe they wouldn't. The news would cover some new, horrific story. But I would never have the luxury of forgetting it. The power of a name was something else.

Unless it didn't have to last.

Maybe I'd gone completely crazy, but the thought ones and goes in a flash, the impulse follows.

"I'm going to have some more time off because of this, obviously. A couple of weeks, at least." Jackson was speaking about his own recovery and while I should have been paying close attention to every word coming out of his mouth, it went in one ear and right out the other. "It's a pretty big incision and I'll be here at least a couple of more days."

"Jackson," I stated his name suddenly, my voice firm enough that it stopped him from continuing on where he was speaking. I knew why he was talking about his physical condition and not what had happened. He didn't know where we stood. I couldn't blame him for that. It was probably my fault.

His eyebrows raised up at me, clearly waiting for me to continue. I fell silent for a moment which prompted him to speak. "What's up, April?"

"I'm about to say something crazy and I need you to listen to me. To really listen to me." I warned him.

"Alright, go ahead." He nodded.

"I want your last name. I want to get married, to you, Jackson. I… I want to be Mrs. Dr. Avery. And I know this is crazy because the entire time we've known each other it's been nothing but absolute chaos between the two of us. I got shot because of you and you got stabbed because of me. And maybe that's every sign the universe should have to give two people to tell them to stay away from each other but despite all of the crazy crap and life-threatening experiences, I still want you. I still want to be with you every step of the way. Because I love you. And I'd never really loved someone and had them love me back, not when they know everything about me, not like you do. You're someone special. You are someone so, so special. And I don't want… this insanity to take that away from me. It's taken enough. This time, I want it to finally give me something good."

The rambles fall from my lips without much forethought and yet I don't regret a single one of them that comes back. Maybe it's the worst timing int he world and a terrible excuse for a proposal, there's no ring and our roles are most certainly reversed, but it doesn't matter. It wasn't like anything in our relationship had been normal or traditional up to this point.

"You want to marry me?" Jackson questioned.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."


	15. Chapter 15

**_ JACKSON _ **

"I want your last name. I want to get married, to you, Jackson. I… I want to be Mrs. Dr. Avery. And I know this is crazy because the entire time we've known each other it's been nothing but absolute chaos between the two of us. I got shot because of you and you got stabbed because of me. And maybe that's every sign the universe should have to give two people to tell them to stay away from each other but despite all of the crazy crap and life-threatening experiences, I still want you. I still want to be with you every step of the way. Because I love you. And I'd never really loved someone and had them love me back, not when they know everything about me, not like you do. You're someone special. You are someone so, so special. And I don't want… this insanity to take that away from me. It's taken enough. This time, I want it to finally give me something good."

Listening to all of the words that came out of the floodgate of April's mouth, I find myself stunned with every piece of information that she delivered to me. It was crazy. It was fast and too soon and I knew that my mother would have my head for even considering the possibility of proposing, yet I don't want to say no. Love made people do crazy things, like marry someone that you had only known for a couple of months. When you knew, you knew. I'd known for a long time, really, but I'd always thought that she would be the one who took awhile to come to terms with that serious level of a relationship.

"You want to marry me?" I asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." April replied without hesitation.

I stared at her dumbfounded for a moment with wide eyes, wheels inside of my head spinning. The morphine helping with the pain from the surgery was no doubt making me a little foggier and slower to process all of it.

"You really want this?" I questioned one more time, just to be absolutely sure, that this wasn't coming from some fear of losing me or a place of exhaustion or the fact that we had both had a pretty close encounter with death again in the past twenty-four hours. Even though I knew she would ultimately understand why I had broken things off with her, I'd expected more anger from her, a slower turn around than this.

"Of course I do," she answered. "Don't you?"

Careful of the IV that was inserted into a vein on my hand, I reached out to her. Our fingers intertwined. For once, she's the warm one between the two of us. It's almost always the opposite way around, but even if I wasn't the medical expert here, I knew that blood loss affected that. I wondered what she thought of it at the moment.

"I want to marry you too."

April adjusted herself and leaned over, pressing a soft kiss on my lips. I lift up my chin and return it the best that I can while laying on a hospital bed, but moving more than a few millimeters proved to be rather painful, even with the drugs in my system.

When our lips parted, much to my relief, she doesn't go anywhere. Instead, she dragged the chair a little closer to my bed and positioned herself so that she could lay her head just above my shoulder. I can tell that she hasn't gone home to shower since everything had happened, no distinct smell of shampoo, just something distant from the morning or night before. I know that I would have done the same thing.

"I love you, April." I murmured quietly, turning my head to brush my lips against her hair.

"I love you too."

Positioning myself best that I can, I lifted up one arm and wrapped it around her frame to try and bring her in further against me. I don't know what I would have done in this situation without the morphine, because even with it, I could feel some discomfort in my back and abdomen. I knew that I was going to be off work for a few weeks. Again.

She must have been waiting a long time because before I know it, I can hear the steady sound of her breathing. I haven't forgotten the sound of her sleeping even in the weeks apart. I smile to myself, barely brushing a little hair back behind her ear.

The engagement was quick and sudden, without a ring and technically she had asked me, but I knew that I was going to get an engagement ring for her anyways. I didn't always spend much money on myself, but someone like her was more than worth breaking the bank for. I knew that she could take care of herself, that her salary was bigger than mine, but I didn't care. She deserved nice things. Her life had been rough enough as it was.

But I knew after the condescending conversation that I had just had with my mother, this engagement was not going to go over well with her. She wanted me as far away from April as possible, and I didn't want her ever to be out of my life again. I loved and respected my mother entirely, I always had. I knew how strong she was and how lucky I was to be raised by a woman like her, especially after my father had run off when I was just a little kid. Yet this was one thing that I couldn't bring myself to agree with her on, I couldn't respect the stubbornness that she fumed out. This was love. This was the one area where I needed to put myself first, and for me, that meant choosing April above all else.

Much to my dismay, I have to spend a few more nights in the hospital. April doesn't spend all of them with me – she comes and goes, instead, spending the time after visitor hours getting her things moved into my house. We'd practically already lived together, it would be an easy transition. I'm curious what it'll look like by the time I get out.

One of the orderlies wheeled me toward the door, where April was standing outside of her car. My truck had been a goner in the accident, but that was something that I could take care of while I was supposed to be on bedrest.

"Hey!" She greeted, a bright smile igniting across her features.

"Hi," I smiled at my fiancee, reaching out for her hand and kissing the back of her knuckles.

Unlike a couple of days ago, there was now an engagement ring resting on her fourth finger. I had asked Shepherd to go and pick it up for me after purchasing it online, that way I could surprise her with it as soon as possible. It was a James Allen Pave Engagement Ring with a rose gold setting and 0.31-carat diamond. Beautiful and elegant, but not entirely over the top. That would be saved for the actual wedding ring. She had fawned over it adoringly.

"Are you ready for me to pushing you around?" April smiled down at me. She kept her hand connected to mine as I slowly pushed myself out of the wheelchair, and helped me into the passenger seat. Fortunately, her car sits lower than mine. Getting in wasn't so bad.

"I guess I don't really have much of a choice on the matter, do I?" I grinned back at her.

"No, no you most certainly do not." She clucked her tongue back at me, walking around to the other side of the vehicle. She got in and buckled up, pausing a moment as she put her foot on the ignition and hand on the shifter. I stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to move.

"Everything alright?" I questioned gently, brows furrowed.

April nodded. "Yeah," she shifted from park to drive. "Yeah, everything's fine. Sorry– I just… I've been fine driving on my own in my own car but now that you're in the car, I'm thinking about what happened when I drove your car."

"That's not your fault," I reminded her gently, reaching over and rubbing my thumb across the back of her knuckles. "Besides, I know you're not going to crash. You've got precious cargo, remember?"

"You're full of it." She shook her head, but laughter spilled from her lips.

It's not a terribly long drive from the hospital back to my place and the highway is mostly free of traffic due to it being midday. I find my gaze out the window, embracing the feeling of being free. I'd never liked hospitals much. Going to and from was a necessary part of the job on occasion, but having been stuck in it myself had left a soured taste in my mouth. It was stiff, lacked any kind of real entertainment. The longer I was there, the more I could practically feel my brain atrophy.

When we finally turn into the neighborhood and pull up to my house, things on the outside look more or less the same. I had a lawn crew come and take care of the yard so that generally wasn't a worry for me.

"Alright, out we go…" April got out of the car first and rushed around to the other side to help me out. I don't want to admit I need it, but I'm not entirely sure if I do or not.

By the time I'm up and on both feet, Brody had bolted out of the front door and come hurling toward me. While he's normally pretty well behaved, this time, it's clear he's missed me. The golden retriever jumped up on me and it doesn't hurt quite as much as I had anticipated it to. The stitches are healing well, my kidney function was fine thus far. All seemed well thus far.

"Hey buddy," I greeted him, scratching his ears. "I missed you."

"There's my baby boy." My mother greeted as she stepped off of the porch and toward me.

"Hi Mom," I make my way to her once Brody had gotten down and decided to jump on April, letting her hug me. She's gentle, of course, holding herself back for the first time in forever.

"How are you feeling?" She asked immediately.

"I'm alright," I answered and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. It was mostly true, but I saw no reason to worry her.

"Hi, Catherine." April trailed up behind me with Brody at her side and my hospital bag in hand.

The both of us had announced our engagement to her while I was still in the hospital, half hoping that she might take it a little easier with the sight of me in a hospital bed. That, well, had been a gross misunderstanding. She'd reacted badly regardless and said a few words to April's face that I would have never expected from her. I'd told her off and April had nearly been in tears over her words. Ultimately, she had taken them back even if she never actually apologized for saying them in the first place. I have the sense that she doesn't quite approve still.

"Hello, April," my mom returned the greeting.

An awkward smile is exchanged and I watched her walk past my mom in a bit of a hurry, her ponytail bouncing as she moved inside of the house. Waiting until she's out of earshot, I let out a sigh.

"We talked about this, Mom. I love her. It'd be nice if you did too." I reminded her.

"I remember what we talked about," she quipped. "I haven't changed my mind. I still think that it's a bad idea for you. But it's your life. If you want to live it with her, I suppose I'll just have to deal with it."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, sucking in a deep breath and motioning for her inside. Brody and I follow side by side, the dog practically running circles around me.

Looking around my house, a few changes have been made. Things seem… brighter. I can't quite place my finger on it, but things are meticulously clean. I'm not a messy guy, but I'm not anal retentive, either. It looked like a clean freak had gone through it. April had mentioned once that she was a stress cleaner, and I guess she'd spent the past few days taking it out on my house midst moving in her own stuff. A few feminine decorations had been placed out as well. It's a different style than what I'm used to, but it didn't look bad.

"You made yourself comfortable," I observed gently. "I like it."

"Thanks," April smiled back at me. "I'm gonna take your stuff upstairs and grab a quick shower. I'm cooking dinner tonight, to celebrate you being home." She stretched up, kissing me on the cheek softly. "I'll be back down in a few minutes. I won't take long." She promised.

I watched her go for a moment, a little energetic bounce in her step. It seemed like she was just as happy that I was out of the hospital as I was. For a woman who had spent so much of her life obsessed with being alone and keeping people out, things had changed with her. Now the two of us both knew that we just worked better when we were together. It was nicer that way.

"Mom, you want to stay a minute so we can talk?" I requested with April out of the room.

"Mmhm. What is it, baby?" She asked.

"It's about April." Her expression dropped immediately as I spoke. "I'm serious. I need you to listen to me, okay? I don't want to beat a dead horse, but this is something important to me. The most important thing I've got going right now, actually."

My mom took a deep breath and sighed, folding her arms. "Go ahead. Say your piece."

"I want you to like April. I'm not just saying this for myself but it's important to her, too. She doesn't have any family and really never has a good one and you know that. So your approval would mean a lot to her. It'd be giving her a sense of family that she's never gotten before and I think that she deserves that. Even though she and I have been through some crazy crap together, I think you know deep down that she's a good person, regardless of whether you want to blame her for any of it or not. Because she is one. You raised me to be a good man, and you're the role model I've had my entire life. You're the reason that I wouldn't fall for someone less than deserving, Mom, and you should know that. I just want you to give her a fair chance."

Not everything that I was saying was verbatim for what April had told me, but based on some of the comments that she had made about my mother, it was easy enough to piece together. Hopefully, it would open up my mother's eyes a little more to the reality of the situation.

"I suppose I'll work on giving her a chance if that's what will make you happy." My mom sighed out, looking less than satisfied. It's probably all I was going to get out of her.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me. To the both of us." I replied honestly.

My mom stepped toward me, wrapping her arms around me once more and being careful of the healing stitches. I return one arm around her frame and give her a gentle squeeze back, both in thanks and reassurance that I was truly fine with everything.

"You better take care of yourself." She said, lightly threatening me.

"I will. Trust me, I want to get back to work. Retirement's not in my future any time soon." Maybe I'm a little too aware of the short lifespan most cops have after retiring.

"That's my boy," she reached up, pinching my cheek affectionately. I chuckled and shook my head. "I've got to get back to work now, but don't be afraid to call me should you need anything." She reminded me.

"I know, I will," I reminded, turning to open the door for her. "Bye, Mom."

"Bye baby."

Shutting the door once she had gotten into her own car, I let out the breath I had been holding onto. I don't know if she actually planned on keeping her word about it, but at least she'd agreed to the request. That was more than what I' gotten from her thus far.

My eyes scanned around my house again, taking in the differences. Brody circled around the couch twice before jumping up and settling down on it, and I smile for a brief moment. I'd definitely missed my dog. I could hear the shower still running upstairs which meant that April wouldn't be down for a few more minutes.

I remembered what my surgeon had said to me about getting back to my normal life after going home. He had encouraged light, everyday activities as soon as I felt able. Walking around wasn't so bad, even if I know I'm not going to be back to jogging just yet. Work would also be pushed off – too strenuous and too dangerous. It'd be a couple more weeks before I was cleared to get back to the department, assuming that everything went well. There were plenty of things that April and I would be able to do now, even if sex wasn't quite one of them.

Taking each step one at a time, nice and slow, I make my way up the stairs and to the master bedroom. It's relatively the same as before, but with a new photo on the nightstand. It's a selfie of me and her, taken a crooked angle, her leaning into me with a hand on my shoulder. She looked beautiful and peaceful.

I can't decide if her peace is more beautiful, or her in a towel with dripping hair in my bedroom.

"Hey," she squeaked out, surprised to see me. "You made it upstairs."

"It wasn't so bad," I gave half a smile. "Just had to take my time, that's all."

"Not a lot of pain?" April asked, her eyebrows raising up.

"Nope." I popped the syllable, slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed to get out of her way.

She moved past me for a moment toward the dresser, where I'm impressed to see she's already filled out a drawer with underwear. Mine had never been completely full, and I'm sure that she had reorganized things there too. My eyes don't leave her frame as she slipped on a pair of black panties and a matching bra. Even if we can't do anything, I can still enjoy her.

"You're staring," April remarked as she turned back toward me, grinning as she moved to the closet. She put on a pair of jeans and what I recognize as one of my t-shirts from my college days. It's far too big for her, length and width.

"This is the most entertainment that I've had in weeks, babe, remember?" I teased.

Her eyes rolled but there's still a clear smile on her face and I return it without any hesitation. Even amidst all the darkness, she was the happiness, the light at the end of the tunnel. Now we were both at the end, we'd come out of the worst of it. In one piece, too, even if we'd both lost pieces of ourselves. Some more physical than others.

Once she was dressed again, April plopped down on the bed next to me. I don't complain as she lifted up the hem of my shirt to examine what's there. The stitches are healing well, and the scar would be permanent, but not too obvious.

"I'm not looking too much like one of your bodies yet, am I?" I turned my head toward her, leaning over just enough that I can steal a sweet kiss from her lips.

"I think you're a little far from that," April replied, pressing a kiss on my shoulder. "But you've still got to take it easy."

"I know, I know," I nodded. "Just because you're a doctor doesn't mean you're my doctor."

"This is true," she gave a slight nod. "But I am your fiancee which gives me officially all the reason in the world to be worried about you, in case you've forgotten about that." As if to prove her point, she gave a little wiggle of her finger to draw attention to the ring resting on her finger.

I reached for her hand, taking it. "I promise I'm going to be taking it easy. I should be fine around the house. Especially since it looks like you've got all your stuff moved in and settled by yourself."

"I didn't want to give you the opportunity to stress yourself out," April admitted with a small shrug of her shoulders. "And it made it a little easier to pass the time. I had a hard time sleeping here without you. It just didn't feel right, you know? It's your house and you weren't here and I'm pretty sure that Brody was pretty annoyed that you weren't here, too."

"It's your house too now, you know. I can get your name on the deed, no problem." I reminded her.

"I know that. I don't care about what a deed says, as long as you're here with me." She smiled. "I'm going to go get started on dinner unless you need anything else?"

"Nope. Go right ahead, babe."

Another smile is given to me as she got up and headed downstairs. I can hear her humming at one to herself for just a moment, but the noise disappears by the time that she was in my kitchen. Our kitchen, I corrected myself mentally. It was going to take a little time to get used to having her living with me again. It had felt so right when I'd kept her around here when there had been a threat to my life, then empty after I had broken things off with her. Now things were finally going to go back to the way that they were meant to be.

Getting up, I examine the scars in the mirror for myself. It's not the worst that I've seen in my line of work, but it'll definitely be a reminder of what the two of us have been through together. As if there was anything in the world that could make me forget.

Dinner goes by in a flash, it seemed. April cooked steaks on the stove top, much to my surprise. Normally I did most of the cooking and she assisted for some of the preparation, but this seemed like something that she had pieced together just for me. Mashed potatoes and grilled parmesan broccoli went along with it perfectly.

Laying down for bed that night, it's a little frustrating that even though I'm home, I can't physically be with her in the way that I want to. I knew that she would be perfectly patient, but I couldn't say the same for myself.

"Mm, I might as well still be at the hospital," I whined, running my fingers over the curve of her hip.

"Don't say that." She shook her head.

I rolled my eyes. "Is it so bad that I want to make love with to my beautiful wife? Maybe even make a baby, now that things have settled down a bit?" Admittedly, I'm not entirely sure where that came from. But that was the natural progression of relationships – engagement, marriage, children. We were both already well-established in our jobs, even if I was out of commission for a few more weeks from the surgery.

"You want to have a baby with me?" April questioned, her eyebrows raising high up into her forehead with apparent surprise at the suggestion that I had thrown her way.

"Yeah, of course, I do," I answer seamlessly, drawing a pattern of circles against her hip.

"Jackson, I know that we're in our thirties, but…" she paused in a way, brow furrowing down and the concern was already stirring in my stomach for whatever she was about to say. "I don't know if I'm ready to have kids just yet. Maybe I should be by now but I just–"

"April." I cut her off before she could continue rambling. "I respect that. I'm not in any rush, don't worry. A wedding is more than enough to keep me happy right now." I smiled at her, giving her hip a little squeeze. "But you want them eventually, right?"

Her gaze flickered away from me, clearly uncomfortable giving the honest answer. I've only seen that particular expression on her face a few times and I know that nothing good ever comes from it. It's how she looks when she's insecure about something, too. Those two emotions with her often went hand in hand, something that I had learned rather early on. I just hoped she wasn't completely against the idea. I wanted to be the father that I never had, and I knew that she would have been an amazing mother one day.

"You can say whatever you need to," I reminded her softly, trying to seek out her gaze. "No judgment."

"I don't know." She admitted, bottom lip rolling between her teeth. "I… I think about my father, my sisters. And now I think about my half-brother. " She started to explain. "The genetics in my family just seems like bad luck. Psychotic, even, like being some kind of evil monster is written in the genes. And I can't imagine myself willingly bringing a child into the world, knowing that."

Once the explanation came from her mouth, I realized that I should have seen it coming. Even if her brother and Owen had been taken care of in the most permanent way possible, that didn't mean that the trauma and scarring from her life were going to disappear.

"I get that." Not entirely, but I could at least offer sympathy. She was the good apple in a bad bunch. I wondered briefly about her other sisters.

"Do you?" She questioned quietly, her brows furrowed together.

"I'll do my best do," I promised. "Your body, your choice. I know and support that. I support you." There's a twinge of disappointment, though. This was something that I had always wanted in my life. I knew there was no way that we would raise a bad kid, not the two of us together. There was the whole nature verse nurture argument, and I believed in the latter. She didn't seem to. "What about adoption? Is that something you'd ever consider?"

April blinked in surprise. "Yeah, maybe. I guess so. I hadn't thought about it before." She answered.

"Then there we go." My hand moved from the curve of her hip to her cheekbone for a moment, cupping her face. "See? Plenty of options. All we have to do is think outside the box." I reassured her. "We've got this."

"Yeah, I guess we do." She placed her hand on top of mine, thumb stroking the back of my knuckles.

It's easy to fall asleep that night and feel good about things. We were going to get married. We could figure out something with children. But we finally had our own lives to live and that was something amazing all by itself. I sleep well for the first time in a fairly long time, back home in my own bed with the love of my life at my side and my dog asleep at our feet.

With time off of work, we spend the weeks between starting to figure out what we were going to do for the wedding. I didn't have a clue, so I'd gone to Google first thing and made note of the first result that came up. Start a wedding folder or binder – that could be for April, if she decided we needed one. Working out a budget wouldn't be hard. Pick your wedding party and start the guest list was next on the list, though, and that's where things started to change their pace.

"Maybe we shouldn't have a wedding party. I know that's weird, but… I don't know who else I would want there standing up with me. Besides you, I mean." April explained.

I'd wanted Shepherd as my best man, but I didn't want to embarrass her. "I'm alright with that." I had half a mind to suggest Meredith. We'd been on a few double dates together, the four of us hanging out, and they had seemed to get along well. But if she wasn't coming up with the idea on her own, her whole heart wouldn't be in it. "Do you have any thoughts on the guest list?"

"I don't know." April sighed. "I… I just don't have many friends here. Friends, that aren't your friends, you know? And I don't have any family. It's like, if you actually did the thing where people for the groom sit on one side and the bride on the other, my side would be empty."

"Sweetheart…" I started softly, reaching out for her hand and taking it. "You are so loved."

"By you. I know that, and I'm comfortable with that. I've always been the girl who just has work friends, so that's like, whatever to me, honestly. All this wedding stuff is just kind of… highlight that for me, though. Putting it in the spotlight, I guess."

"So what?" I prompted her to continue, confused by where she was going with this.

"Well," April took a deep breath before continuing. "I think that maybe we should just go down to the courthouse and get married there. No big ceremony. Simple, quick, efficient, and legal. Kind of like our jobs." She tried to joke, smiling. "And then just have a big reception with lots of drinking and whoever in the department isn't working and we can go wild there."

It was a thought that I hadn't considered. Of course, most of the guests were bound to be police officers in one way or another. I had a few pals outside of the department – neighbors, some guys from the gym, but that was where my family was. With my job, and with her.

"That's really what you want? You're not going to regret not having a real wedding?"

Maybe it was a little sexist of me, but I'd always pinned weddings as a female thing. The dress, the flowers, a lot of it was traditionally put on the female end of the spectrum. I wasn't trying to be outdated, but it was kind of the way that I had always assumed things were. Maybe I'd been wrong about that if she was willing to toss the idea out the window so easily.

"No. I really think that this is what I want." April answered with a small smile.

I stepped over toward her, cupping her face with both hands and giving her a firm kiss on the mouth. She leaned into me, placing her hands on my shoulders as a slight anchor for the difference in our heights.

"Then we'll do it. Whenever the hell you want, 'cause I really didn't want to wait much longer always."


	16. Chapter 16

**_ APRIL _ **

The date for the wedding had officially been set.

We had gone through venue after venue in the city and the general area before finally settling on one. 2616 Commerce was something that I had never heard of until now, never needed to know as a child, but we had selected the rooftop deck. It was huge and high up enough that the views of downtown Dallas were great and would be nice in the evening. Picnic tables and string lights, a full bar, it was simplistic yet still just elegant and fancy enough to celebrate our big day with everyone that we cared about. We had to bring our own alcohol since it was unlicensed, but Jackson said that he would handle it.

When it came to planning for the actual wedding, though, there wasn't much to do. We had applied for a marriage license and set the date for a Friday afternoon, crossing our fingers and hoping that there wouldn't be any interruptions. It was hard to guarantee that, though.

It would be a quick ceremony, us and his mother. No photographer, but we would dress up and take some photographs before going to the actual reception. There'd be time – the ceremony would be at the end of the workday, and there'd be plenty of time before the party with all our friends started.

Despite keeping most things as simple as possible, I had still wanted a pretty dress on my wedding day. I wouldn't get most typical things, but I did want at least that.

Meredith had gone dress shopping with me. She and Derek, and Jackson and I, had been hanging out much more together since he had gotten out of the hospital and before he had gone back to work. Jackson had wanted to try and stay active as much as he could, pushing himself just a bit. I was proud of how quickly he had gotten back on his feet and recovered from the surgery.

Of course, the two of us? I'd been working some here and there, even though with his trust fund neither of us had to worry extremely about money. All the time together had been crazy but lovely. We'd had a lot of sex since he had been cleared by his doctor, gone to the lake frequently with Brody with me hauling the canoe so he didn't have to lift more than what he was supposed to. Two peas in a pod, that was exactly what we had become. Brody seemed to like having me around, too, a bonus. He'll try to lick my feet in the same way that he did Jackson's, and Jackson always laughed at me for how ticklish I am.

"Are we supposed to see each other today?" Jackson rolled over, pressing a kiss on my lips.

"We just woke up together. I think it's a little late to be asking that." I chuckled, a hand coming up to cup his face gently. "Just no sex before the wedding." I scrunched up my nose, patting his face affectionately.

"Are you sure I can't convince you?" He grinned, coming back down for another kiss and nipping at my lower lip. "Because I think I might be able to do a pretty good job."

"You're insatiable," I chuckled, squirming away and swinging my legs off the bed, stretching out my arms. "And I love it."

"Yes, yes you do." His hand ran down my back, wrapping around one of my hips after a moment.

I placed my hand on top of his, thumb brushing over the back of his knuckles. "You're right about that." I agreed. "But you're going to go to work. I will be here today and then we'll meet with your mom at the courthouse." I reminded him.

"Mmhm," Jackson hummed in agreement.

Getting up, I don't bother with getting dressed before heading downstairs to the kitchen to make a proper breakfast for the both of us while he took a shower. Scrambled eggs with cheese, tomatoes, and mushrooms, sausage, and hash browns. Something a little more filling than the fast-food I knew he was likely to get for lunch at work.

Before I know it, he's off to work and it's just me and Brody in the house. I take him for a long walk around the neighborhood so we can both stretch our legs a little, then take a long shower to shave and exfoliate everything.

My appearance was something that I was frequently meticulous about on a day-to-day basis, even if some exceptions had been made here and there around Jackson. I don't need make-up for him to make me feel beautiful. I don't need anything, really, other than to be myself, which was amazing. He was amazing. I was lucky to be marrying him. I wanted today to be special and plenty of time was going to be put into getting ready and hopefully being as photogenic as possible.

Blow drying my hair takes a long time. I don't mind because once it's done, it's shiny and smooth in a way that makes me happy. I get dressed in lingerie and throw a robe on over, not wanting to get ready too soon, but wanting enough time to finish everything. It's a hard balance.

The sound of the doorbell ringing caught me off guard, freezing for a moment. Pretty much everyone knew what we were doing today, so unless it was a neighbor in need, I didn't know why anyone would be here.

Peaking through the peephole, it's Catherine on the other side of the door. Huh.

"Hi, Catherine," I greeted her with a small smile after opening up the door, stepping back enough so that she could come in if she wanted to. I wasn't sure what exactly she wanted.

"Hi, sweetheart," she greeted me. Her voice was kinder than what I was expecting.

"Uh, is everything okay?" I questioned, trying to figure out what exactly she was doing here. I expected to see her later today, but I figured that I would be alone until I got to the courthouse later today.

"Of course." Catherine nodded as she stepped in. I shut the door after her, pausing awkwardly in the doorway and waiting for her to continue. "I just wanted to come see how you were doing."

I blinked in surprise. "Oh." I breathed out. "I'm–I'm fine. Jackson went to work a half day and then is getting ready at Derek's house, I think. I'm just here, getting ready, till it's time to go." I explained, wetting my lips before giving a small smile to try and ease my own tension.

"I thought you might be alone," Catherine started. "April, I believe that I owe you an apology. I've been much harsher on you than what's necessary and than what you deserve. You may have some rough circumstances surrounding your past, but you are not just your past. You're much more than that and you have proven to be a strong, wonderful woman who my son is very lucky to have in his life." She expressed, reaching out to me and taking one of my hands. "I'm truly sorry for that. You two are going to be a good fit for each other. And I may not be your mother, but no bride deserves to get ready for her wedding day without a mother."

A deep breath was sucked in through my nose, caught off guard by the sudden apologetic proclamation and final announcement of approval of the marriage that was going to occur this afternoon. I had wanted it for a long time, yet I hadn't expected this to come from her, especially not today. I thought that it would take years to get this approval from her.

"Thank you. Thank you very much, Catherine." I expressed sincerely, squeezing her hand.

"Let's go get you ready, huh? I can't wait to see that dress." She smiled at me. It took me a moment to gather myself but I gave a quick nod of my head in agreement.

"Yeah, okay."

Catherine followed me upstairs to the master bedroom and bathroom, and I pulled the dress out of the closet. It had been in a garment bag since it had come home with me so Jackson wouldn't see it for himself, and I only hoped that he hadn't peaked at it.

"Oh, April…" she started as I begun to unzip it. "This is beautiful." She expressed. "Let's see it on you. I'll help you with the back of it."

The ivory dress was simple and knee-length, not wanting to go too over the top, given that it wasn't a traditional ceremony, yet still clearly a wedding dress. It was an A-line with a simple bateau lace neckline above it, cap sleeves, lace covering the remainder of the dress. It buttoned up in the back. It had a natural waistline, brought in slightly with the sash at the bottom of my ribcage that tied into a bow in the back. It was so elegant and fit well. I had been thrilled when I'd come out of the dressing room to show Meredith, and I was thrilled again now to show Catherine.

"What do you think?" I couldn't help but ask, knowing at least this time I would have her approval.

"You look very, very beautiful," Catherine confirmed. "Anyone would be proud to be your mother, April. I'm sorry that your own doesn't think that." She said gently. I can't swallow my emotions, stepping forward toward her and wrapping my arms around her, giving her a real hug.

"Thank you very much," I smiled softly and soothed my hands over the lace of the dress. "Jackson makes me really happy and I want to make him happy, too."

"I know that you do." She smiled. "But c'mon, let's get you in the bathroom. We still have work to do."

My soon-to-be mother-in-law helped me with curling out my hair so that I could wear it down and long with the dress, as well as a little different technique for applying my mascara. My lashes do look a little longer than usual, so it does seem to work well enough. Something about sitting there with my hair and make-up done, in a simple but beautiful wedding dress, with Catherine by my side, made me feel magical inside.

"You look perfect." Catherine complimented me once more. "Now, I think it's time for us to go."

"You look really nice too, Catherine," I returned the kind words to her. "Purple is a beautiful color on you."

The two of us take her car so we could go downtown together to meet Jackson at the courthouse where everything was arranged. I had all of the paperwork with me. We park and get out, heading inside quickly. The dress is clear enough that I do get a few glances here and there from people walking by, but it doesn't bother me. This was a day to be proud of.

Marriage ceremonies take place on the third floor of the building so we go up quickly. A few other couples were in the hallways waiting for their own ceremony, and I was glad that we had called ahead to make a scheduled appointment for ours.

I spot Jackson standing on the other end of the hallway. We're a few minutes early, of course, and he must have been even earlier. He's standing, leaning back against the wall with his hands tuned in a tuxedo, looking as handsome as ever.

"Hi," I greeted him after rushing down the short hallway, heels clicking against the tile noisily.

"You look beautiful," Jackson smiled at me, taking both of my hands and holding them together for a moment. I could see the emotion mixing with the blue and green in his eyes, more than enough to make my heart swell with joy again. Catherine caught up with me a moment later, and it's perhaps the only thing that could take his attention away from me. "Hi, Mom. Thanks for coming."

"Of course, you know I couldn't miss this." Catherine placed her hands on ours. "I went and helped my to-be daughter-in-law get ready. I didn't want to miss any of this."

"Thank you for doing that." Jackson looked a little surprised by her words. She must not have told him that she planned on doing that. "Are you ready to go? You look ready." He asked me.

"I've been ready for a long time now," I confirmed with a bright smile.

Fortunately for us and my lack of patience, the time that we had scheduled for an appointment is respected. A few minutes pass and a freshly married couple exited the office with giggles and smiles, filling me with another layer of excitement. Then our names are called to enter next. Chewing on my lower lip to try and contain myself, I followed him into the office, Catherine right behind me. It's not particularly big but its just enough for the three of us.

With a quick ceremony like this one, even scheduled, there's no time for vows to be customized or much else about the ceremony beside where our names were placed. I don't mind. It's just for the legal aspect of the marriage, after all. We would make our marriage unique on our own.

It doesn't take long for the expected question to come. "Do you, Jackson Avery, take April Kepner as your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Jackson answered firmly, trying to keep his emotions at bay but clearly failing.

"And do you, April Kepner, take Jackson Avery as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," I answered back quickly, voice cracking.

A few scripted words about marriage come from the judge, and Jackson and I keep our hands connected to one another. When he asked if there were rings to exchange, we both give a nod.

"I, Jackson Avery, give you, April Kepner," as Jackson began to speak, he pulled out the ring from his pocket. It was large and beautiful, a halo diamond band, much flashier than the engagement ring that he had gotten for me a couple months ago. The diamond looked like a full Carat. "This ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you." He slid it onto my finger and I try not to find.

"I, April Kepner, give you, Jackson Avery," I begin to repeat the words as I pull out the ring for him. It was a thick silver band, a row of diamonds embedded in it. "This ring as an entreat symbol of my love and commitment to you." I echoed his words.

"May your marriage bring you all the exquisite excitements that a marriage should bring. You may now kiss."

And we do.

With Catherine's happy clapping in the background, Jackson bent down to accommodate my height and kissed me hard. The sparks that fly are like the first time all over again, electricity tracing through and igniting every vein in my body. He was a part of me just as much as I was a part of him and this was proof. I cupped his face and kissed him back hard, clinging to him like I might never let go. If I had my way, well, I probably wouldn't. I'd stay right here in his arms where I belonged and never let go of him. We kept kissing until the officiant cleared his throat loudly.

"Sorry," I breathed out the apology through a giggle, forehead resting against Jackson's chest for a moment. "Is that everything?" I asked, one eyebrow quirking upward.

"It is. Congratulations to the both of you." The officiant confirmed with a nod of his head.

Jackson's fingers intertwined with mine once more, thanking him before lifting up our hands and kissing the back of my knuckles. We take a pause to sign all of the paperwork that was necessary for everything to be official. Once it was all done, Jackson used one hand to hold mine and the other to hold his mother's, the three of us walking together back out.

"You are getting your photos done, right?" Catherine questioned.

"Yeah," I gave a quick nod of my head. "I wanted to. We both do. We'll make sure that you get some of your own copies of the photos." I glanced over at her with a sincere smile, feeling much better about our relationship after this afternoon.

"Good." She nodded her head.

"We better get going to meet with the photographer on time," Jackson commented with a glance at his watch. I glanced over at myself before giving a nod of agreement.

"Yeah, before everyone else arrives at the venue." The photographs with the skyline of Dallas in the background, especially with an evening sky and the colors that frequently could be found painted there, should have made for beautiful photos. It helped that Jackson was impossibly photogenic, too. He was just as beautiful in person as he was in a photo.

Catherine stopped, stretching up to kiss Jackson on the cheek. "Don't be late."

"We won't." He assured her.

"Congratulations, again, to the both of you. I'm glad that I could be here today." She smiled. "And I'll see you both again at the reception."

"Of course." I murmured. Catherine and I exchanged hugs once more before we head our separate ways, with her going to her own car and me following Jackson toward his truck.

When we arrive at the venue for the wedding reception, everything was set up perfectly. Twinkling lights were strung up all around here and there, picnic tables had nice clothes strewn across with silverware and plates already ready to go. It was a buffet style. Food and alcohol had been the big expense when it came to our wedding, but it would be more than worth it, of course. Even if it was all a little feminine for the over the top masculinity of the police department, I was happy with how everything had turned out.

Photographs take a little longer than I had expected them too, and for once in my life, it's easy not to be camera shy. Having him hold me in his arms, the love and affection that twinkled in his eyes, all of it made me feel so much better being on this side of a camera. I can smile and beam all the same. We do a few cliched poses, but it's still perfect.

The photographer would stay for the reception, but there are a few minutes of downtime between finishing and the time for people to begin arriving. I don't leave Jackson's arms in it, swaying side to side to the sound of some song that only the two of us could hear.

"There they are!" Derek's booming voice shouted.

"Hey!" Jackson shouted right back at him, pulling away enough so only one arm was wrapped around me instead of two, beaming over at his partner.

"April, in case this guy's been a nut job and hasn't told you yet, you look beautiful." He complimented me as he and Meredith both approached, holding hands. We all break apart from our respective partners for a few moments to exchange some hugs. Of course, they would be the first to arrive.

"Thank you, Derek." I smiled at him. "And Meredith, you look stunning too."

"Uh-uh. Not today. This is your day, April." Meredith clucked her tongue at me with a shake of her head. "Take advantage of it, and take the compliments."

I chuckled. "Okay, whatever you say."

More guests begin filtering in upstairs as a bit of conversation flowed between the four of us. We had gone on a few double dates and all gotten rather comfortable with one another, which makes it easy to favor them in terms of conversation with the reception kicking off to a start. Most of the people here were from the department in one form or another – other police officers, lab technicians, and all the likes. We were a tight-knit group, and it certainly wasn't the first relationship or marriage that had occurred under the roof.

I want to stay by his side throughout the course of the night, but we do separate for the sake of socialization. I end up speaking awhile with Lexie, one of my favorite lab technicians. She was smart and witty, and a good listener. I liked working with her a lot and I was glad that she came. She'd been particularly attentive since I'd been taking care of Jackson during his recovery, knowing that I couldn't physically be there quite as much.

Once people had gotten settled in, though, it was time for speeches. I didn't want a big fuss to be made about it, but Derek had insisted on making a speech for the both of us. Neither of us was going to shoot him down, of course.

Derek stood up, clinking his glass. The crowd fell quiet after a few moments.

"Now, I've been to a lot of weddings in my life and heard a lot of cliches in wedding ceremonies. Stuff about love enduring beyond the last sunset, blessings of light, everything. I've heard it all. But rarely do you see all of those things in such a couple. Yet right here, you've got the perfect example of that in Jackson and April. I was teasing him about her from day one, and yet even I didn't realize how beautifully in love these two would fall for each other. They work together cohesively and they know each other even better than they know themselves. Now, Jackson, I want you to take April's hand and place your hand over hers."

Jackson followed his instructions and I smiled at him as Derek continued speaking. "Now remember this moment and cherish it because this will be the last time you'll ever have the upper hand!" His words earn a roar of laughter from the crowd, and the both of us.

"In all seriousness, you guys deserve all of the happiness in the world. And I'm absolutely sure that you're going to get it, after the wild ride that the two of you have been through. May your lows be no lower than your past highs," he smiled. "And may you both continue to be blessed with each other's love, hopes, and dreams."

With a huge smile blown across my lips, I lean into Jackson for a brief moment and rest my head on his shoulder. I know more photos are being taken by our friends of us at the moment. I don't mind.

There was still one more speech to be made, though. Once the expectation is there, the two of us both stand up together, hands held together. He would be speaking for the both of us, both of us aware that he was much better in front of large groups than I was.

"So, I already know that Derek's completely right about me no longer having the upper hand again, but fortunately for me, April more than worth it." Jackson smiled at me. "I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight. I'd also like to thank the good citizens of Dallas for not committing any murders during my wedding." The crowd laughed. "But most importantly, I'd like to thank my beautiful bride. I never thought that I would find another woman who would understand me in the way she does, and make me smile in the way that she does. April's made me happy in ways that I didn't even know was possible, and not only will I be thanking her for doing that, but I also will be spending the rest of my life trying to do the exact same for her. So thank you, April, for being who you are. Another thank you to my mom, for supporting the both of us through everything. And thank you, again, to all of you for showing up tonight."

The clapping was loud and I couldn't keep the smile off my face. The cake cutting followed, of course. We both shove a little bit in each other's face, careful not to get it on our clothes. It doesn't take long for the dancing to start up – we don't do any of the traditional ones, instead, just letting it be more like a typical party.

Jackson and I stay attached at the hip once the dancing started, no matter the kind of music that was playing over the speakers. His hands on my hips and mine connected at the base of his neck, we swing side to side. Conversation isn't even necessary between us, not really, not at the moment. We were connected on a level that didn't require it.

But eventually, we're both itching to go home and just have our own time. To start our own life together.

Even though we're not immediately going on a honeymoon, deciding to put it off to do something big and a little less on the heels of the time that we had taken off before for his healing, we did plan to spend the night in a hotel room. Another beautiful view of the city, but this time with fewer people, less clothing. It doesn't take long for us to get checked into the hotel. We're both in a hurry now.

"April, I know that I've told you plenty of times how beautiful you look, but…" Jackson stooped down to me, kissing me sweetly on the lips. "I think you're going to look better without that dress."

It earned a laugh out of me, knowing just how cliche it was. "I love you, Mr. Avery."

"I love you too, Mrs. Avery." I grin as he said the words. I would get on the paperwork for that this week, but he'd certainly be calling me that immediately.

He stepped forward, hand reaching to my shoulder and turning me around to undo my dress.

As he pushed it off my shoulders, he leaned down to kiss the exposed skin. I sighed and tilted my head, letting my hair fall to one side. My dress fell to the floor and he wrapped his hands around my waist, loving the immediate warmth that floods through me, both from him against me and the way that he just made me heat up. He worked a spot on my neck and let one hand drift down, tracing the outside edge of my panties. His other hand caressed its way upwards to capture my breast, pinching the rapidly hardening nipple.

"Oh, baby," I breathed out, leaning my head back against him.

"Tell me what you want," Jackson whispered, nipping at my earlobe.

"I want you." As if I needed to tell him that. "But in the bed, please." Even if every time between us was special, this was our wedding night. I wanted him to make love to me.

Jackson squatted down and scooped me up to carry me bridal style over to the bed, setting me down gently. He straightened back up and shrugged off his jacket, quickly undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. We both kicked off our shoes, letting them and the rest of our clothes pool.

He's learned my body well in the months that we had known each other. He doesn't hesitate to crawl on top of me in the bed, his mouth taking one of my breasts into it. He can nearly cover it entirely, tongue and teeth nipping at the sensitive nipple. It's connected right to my core and begging for attention, aching for him to do everything that he was so good at.

Hands wrap around my thighs and Jackson pushed them apart before burying himself there, reminding me of just how much he loves me. My hand goes to the back of his head and holds him there as he eats me out, bringing me to the edge so quick and fast that I see stars, my thighs tremble and hold onto him. He doesn't ease up after my first orgasm, either, going right in again to bring me past the edge again. He was a giver. Practically too much of one, if it was possible in this situation.

"Please, please," I begged him, panting for air. "I need you in me."

That's the kind of begging that it doesn't take much for him to go for. Jackson shifted up, hooking one leg around his hip as he slowly pushed himself inside of me. A deep moan slipped through my lips, digging the back of my heel into him and encouraging him to move deeper inside of me.

Our bodies are flush with one another, from our toes to our legs and upper bodies, his head coming to rest briefly next to mine on the pillows. A gasp passed through my lips when his thumb brushed over my clit, still sensitive from the previous orgasms, hips bucking back against him. We're one and one again, knowing no distance between each other, knowing nothing more than one another. He was mine, and I was his. That was suddenly all that mattered in the world.

One hand tightened on my hip and he rubbed against my clit a little harder before finishing inside of me and bringing me over the edge one more time. I tremble and cry out as I hold onto him for security, feeling his warmth inside of me just as much as it was on top of me.

"Marriage officially christened." Jackson murmured, a sweet kiss pressed onto my lips.

"Mmhm." I hummed, spent from the particular intensity of the love-making.

"I don't think you know how much I love you." He spoke affectionately, a hand coming up and stroking his thumb across my cheekbone.

"Yes, I do." I disagreed with a smile. "Because I love you just as much."

We get up to shower and find ourselves making love again, insatiable and needy in a new way that only marriage could bring. We fall asleep naked and curled around each other once again, legs tangled together. He was my everything. I hadn't been able to see it on day one, but now, it was impossible for me to not know. Falling in love with him had allowed me to fall in love with myself again.

Morning light eventually streamed in through the cracks of the curtain. My eyes peek open for a moment and I don't try to get up immediately, sucking in a deep breath and rolling over, feeling my back pop. Jackson stirred a few minutes later when I'm on the verge of falling asleep.

"Good morning, wifey." I hear him, placing a hand on my hip. "Babe, did your period start?"

"No. I'm not due." I give another shift before realizing that it is wet between my legs and his words indicate that it can't just be left over arousal from everything that we had done the night before. "Oh."

"Is that, uh, normal?" Jackson asked. We both turned over and looked at the spot beneath me. Falling asleep without panties turned out to not be the best idea, apparently.

"It can be?" My eyebrows raised up skeptically. "Let me get cleaned up."

I get up and grab the bag that we had brought in, going to the bathroom to clean myself up. I wasn't sure if there was going to be more blood or not but I hadn't thought to pack for that. I put on black panties, hoping for the best.

"Is everything alright?" Jackson asked when I stepped out of the bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, I give a slight shrug. My period normally came right around the beginning of the month. This was the middle of the month and it hadn't last month. I took birth control… well, almost every day. There were misses here and there in taking pills. Not recently, though, so it didn't account for this. Occasionally, I missed my period altogether. "I think so." I wet my lips. "I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?" He asked, standing up from the bed immediately and walking toward me, taking my hand like he always did. I looked down at them for a moment, thinking of the conversation that we'd had what felt like a long time ago.

"Honestly, the only explanation that I can think of is… spotting can be normal in the first trimester."


	17. Chapter 17

**_ JACKSON _ **

"Honestly, the only explanation that I can think of is… spotting can be normal in the first trimester."

I stilled at her words, just about the last thing that I had expected to come out of my wife's mouth. Period blood didn't bother me – I wasn't that immature and I knew it was something that just happened. A slight bonus that it wasn't our sheets to be cleaned, of course. Yet now the blood staining white sheets was the last thing on my mind.

My mouth opened but initially, no words managed to spill out of it, trying to find the right words to say. Wanting children was something that we stood on slightly different pages on. I'd always wanted them and before her, I had never really considered the options of adoption or having a non-biological child, just because that wasn't the standard or type of thing that people usually referred to when it came to having children. April had been the one to make me consider it. Yet now, here she was telling me that she might be pregnant, on the very first day of our honeymoon. A wedding gift, but I'm not sure that she would see it that way.

"You're pregnant?" I finally blurted out, unable to produce anything more eloquent than that.

"I don't know," April answered back hesitantly, pausing and wetting her lips. "I never got my period last month which isn't necessarily abnormal on birth control but… thinking about it, there's probably been a few days here and there that I might have missed the pill."

The way that she timidly spoke about the matter gave me the impression that she was worried that I might be mad at her for it. I couldn't be. Truthfully, that was the last possible reaction I could have.

"Hey, it's okay," I reminded her gently. "I'm pretty sure there were days where I forgot to take my meds after the surgery."

"Jackson!" She gasped at me, her eyes flying open at my sudden honesty.

"Not the point here," I urged her, standing up to walk toward her. I dropped my chin so that I could look down at her properly, both of my hands taking hers and giving them a gentle squeeze. "But I'm saying it's normal to forget here and there. Don't beat yourself up about it." I gave her a small smile, hoping to lift up her spirits just a bit.

April's gaze dropped even with the words that I attempted to offer her and I don't hesitate, letting go of her hands so that I could wrap my arms around her frame and pull her into a deep breath. Her frame was warm against mine but at the moment she just felt small.

"But there's no point in beating yourself up about the things that you don't know, baby," I started with her gently. "So I think that it's a good idea for us to go get a test and find out. We can know for sure whether or not to freak out about this."

I could fee the tense of her muscles at my words. "I don't know if I'm really ready for that."

"That's okay too," I pulled back gently and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against her lower lip. "If you're pregnant, then you're pregnant. If you're not, then you're not. But I don't think that you should freak out and panic until you know for sure."

"You're probably right," April mumbled but showed nothing to indicate that she actually believed what I was saying. Her face buried in my chest and I took a deep breath, simply just holding her for a moment.

"Why don't we run down the street to CVS and grab a test so we can get it out of the way?" I suggested.

"Okay," she muttered with a slight nod of the head. "Can you go for me?" She requested.

My eyebrows furrowed before agreeing, "Of course."

Not wanting to leave her waiting and a little eager to know the answer myself, I give her a kiss on the forehead before I unwrap myself from her and move to open up the suitcase with my clothes. I quickly pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt, not bothering to look nice for a quick pharmacy run. Hopefully, it wouldn't take long.

Even if I didn't want to say it out loud to her, I did hope some that she was pregnant. I knew that April would have been an amazing mother even if it was something that she struggled to see for herself and she just needed the chance to prove it to herself. She wasn't like the rest of her family – if it was something genetic that had made her father and half-brother, and perhaps even at least one of her sisters the way that they were, then the gene had missed her. She was too good for the rest of them.

There was a CVS just down the road and it didn't take me long to get there and go in and grab a pregnancy test. I'm not sure which exactly to get – choosing the one that comes with two and is a little more expensive than the others. That had to be a decent one, hopefully. Getting back to the hotel feels longer than what it actually takes.

April was dressed when I opened up the door to the hotel room, sprawled out across the bed. The television was on now, playing the news at a low volume.

"Hey," I gave her a soft smile and tossed the plastic sack down on the bed next to her.

"Hi," she breathed out, eyeing it unsteadily.

"You know there's not a wrong answer that could come out of this, right?" I kicked off my shoes as I spoke before moving to kneel on the bed next to her, placing my hand on her knee and giving her thigh a gentle rub.

"I know that you think that." Her particular word choice produced a frown out of me. I have no desire to tread on her beliefs, but I wished that she wouldn't be quite so hard on herself.

"Hey, let's talk about this for a minute, okay?" I suggested.

Much to my chagrin, instead of agreeing and turning toward me, April just fell quiet and stayed in her position stretched out. I gave her thigh another quick rub before laying down next to her, propping myself up on one of my elbows so I could keep looking at her an at least try to read her expression.

"Will you talk about it?" I tried again.

"Yeah," April muttered with a slight nod of her head, dropping a cheek to look at me.

"Okay," I began. "I know that we've talked about this before and you're not crazy about the idea of having a kid of your own. I respect how you feel about that. And you know what I think about it, that I've always wanted kids and a family. That's why we talked about the possibility of adopting or going through some kind of nontraditional way to have a family of our own." I established.

She gave a nod of her head but didn't add anything verbally to the words.

"Does anything about that change if you are pregnant?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," April admitted. "And if it does, I don't even know if I can guarantee that it's really me saying that or if maybe it's just hormones saying that, you know? I do want a family with you, Jackson. I'm just so terrified to have a baby of my own. To have one with my genetics. What if it turns out like my father? Or Mark?" I could see the fear clear in her eyes as she looked up at me, finally willing to make eye contact despite the opaque sadness in her gaze.

"And what if it's like you?" I countered simply.

April barely shook her head and glanced up for a moment, but she doesn't make it to completely rolling her eyes, at least. I just wanted her to take my words for what they were, wholly serious.

"I'm serious, baby, I am. Any child that's half of you is going to be amazing." I reached for her hand, bringing it up to my mouth and placing a kiss on the back of her small hand. "You are beautiful, kind, and so insanely intelligent. The most amazing woman that I know. There's nothing wrong with you. You would have an amazing child. You need to give yourself a chance. Have a little more faith in you. Right now I've got enough for the both of us, but I promise it'll be a lot easier if you have some in you, too. You have faith in me, don't you?" I asked.

"Yeah, I do," she nodded.

"Then believe me when I say to believe in yourself. And I don't mean this just about a baby. Sure, about that, but it's also about so much more than that. You've carried so much by yourself for years and I know that it hasn't been easy. But we're married now. You are my wife, and I am your husband. Your burdens are now our burdens." I reminded her.

"I understand that," she began to prop herself to face me more, head resting on her hand. "I do, I swear. And I love you and that you're here for me, no matter what's going on. It's just not as easy for my heart to get that as it is for my brain, you know? I know it but I just don't always feel it."

Finally, she was opening up. I needed that. "Okay," I started. "That's okay. I'll do whatever I can to make it easier for you to feel the same way I do, you know that, right?" I waited for her to nod. "I love you so much. You have been through so much and no matter what has been thrown in your face, no matter the obstacles placed in your path, you've come out the other side stronger and sweeter. Every single time. Most normal people couldn't do that. I know that you're scared of your genes, but I think all that fear has made you overcome it in every way possible, baby."

"I want to believe you." April's voice came out as a whisper. "I really, really do. I've just spent so long telling myself otherwise that it's not like… a flip I can just switch, stopping that and starting to believe you. It's going to take me time." She explained.

"That's okay," I spoke quickly, giving a little nod of encouragement. At least that she was able to confront it and talk about it, that was at least progress of some kind. I was sure that I had heard people say at some point that was half the battle. "That's perfectly okay, April. I'm not trying to rush you. This is just a good time to have a conversation about it, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," she agreed. "I guess I just… I'm sort of not ready for the conversation? I mean, we're having it, so that doesn't really make sense. I don't know." Her words stuttered out slightly.

"I get it. Trust me, I wasn't expecting to have it today, either. Maybe a few months from now, a year, but not today. I figured that we weren't going to be talking about anything other than practicing baby making today." I gave her a big grin with the words, hoping to lift up her spirits some.

"Dork," April laughed at me, slapping my arm playfully and brightening up.

I grinned and gave a slight shrug of my shoulders, leaning toward her to place a soft kiss on her lips. She returned it easily and I could tell that she had managed to lose at least some of the tension that she had been carrying for the majority of this morning.

"Don't tell me it's not what you had in mind," I teased, barely pulling away from her and nuzzling her nose affectionately.

"No, it definitely was." April agreed with a small laugh leaving her lips.

My arm snuck around her waist and in one motion, I flopped onto my back and pulled her so that she was laying on top of my frame. She settled onto me easily and pressed her lips to mine again, kissing me a little more eagerly than before. With her on top of me like this, it was beyond easy, a great position for making out, as far as I was concerned. But kissing did not make either of us forget about the other item that was on the bed.

She broke off the kiss after a few moments but still remained close to me, her forehead resting on top of mine and our noses pressed right up against one another. I loved having her this close to me, able to see every little detail of her freckled face.

"Do you want to go ahead and take the test now?" I asked, reaching up and brushing back her hair behind her ear gently.

"I guess I better," she answered and wet her lips.

"Okay." Once she had rolled off of me, I sat up and watched her for a moment. She pulled the box out of the plastic bag, using her nails to pull off the additional layer of plastic wrapping around it. I watched as she read the back of the box for the instructions, though she probably didn't need to. Even I knew how it worked. Pee on it and wait.

"I'll be right back," April murmured as she stood up off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom.

Feeling weird listening in, I grabbed the remote of the television and turned up the volume a few notches so I don't feel quite as intrusive. I couldn't decide what I wanted the test to say. It would be a little early into the marriage to start a family, sure, but we were both already in our thirties and well-established in our careers. I knew maternity leave wouldn't be a problem. The department wasn't quite as big on paternity but I could work some overtime, save up, and it would be fine.

If she wasn't, well, I'd be a little disappointed but maybe it would be better for her and her sanity. It would give her some extra time to figure it all out before she had to really confront the reality of having a child, give her the chance to determine of her own will whether she wanted one biologically, hopefully with less influence from the fear of her genes.

A little time passed before she came out of the bathroom again, holding what I assumed was the test wrapped in a little bit of toilet paper. I glanced at her with raised brows and she shrugged her shoulders.

"It'll take a few minutes," April murmured, plopping down on the bed next to me.

"Alright," I nodded my head.

The two of us sit in silence and I can't tell if it's actually tense, or if it's just inside of my head. I tried not to look at my watch more than once in only a few minutes that passed. I didn't want to seem impatient even if that happened to be exactly what I was at the moment. I wanted to know, maybe even more than she did.

"It should be done now…" she said after what felt like forever, leaning forward and unwrapping it.

"What's it say?" I asked, perhaps a little too eager.

"It's positive," April answered softly.

I let go of the breath that I was holding onto suddenly, blinking in surprise and shifting closer so that I could see it for myself. Two clear blue lines were in the little window on the test, clearly indicating that it was positive. She hadn't been jumping to any conclusions. She was pregnant with my child.

For a moment, I was worried to speak. I didn't want to scare or overwhelm her even though the excitement was immediately coursing through my system and I could feel a smile beginning to tug across my expression, just beginning to think about all of the different possibilities. We'd make a beautiful baby, I already knew that. Boy or girl. I kind of had to hope it was a boy – I'd always wanted a son to pass on everything I know, do all of the things with that I wish my dad had done with me as a child. Now I could finally have that chance.

"Wow," I breathed out, unable to say much else.

"I don't know what to do," April admitted, her head dropping down. Immediately I placed my hand on her upper back, rubbing a few circles across it gently.

"You can't be more than what? A month or so?" I reminded her, raising my eyebrows gently. "We can relax."

The sigh that left her lips was easy to feel from my position and I could feel the previous grin beginning to fall on my features. I rubbed her back a little more than before, hoping that it would soothe some of her frazzled nerves.

"I'm not saying this because I'm sure it's what I want, but…" she started hesitantly, looking up at me with furrowed brows. "Would you hate me if I considered having an abortion?"

I blinked in surprise at her words. I knew that she wasn't intending to hurt me with what she said, that it was her body and ultimately my choice, that she didn't need permission one way or another but was asking regardless because we were married. I didn't want to stand in her way and make her do something that she wasn't comfortable with or force her hand either way. Even if it would hurt me, forcing her would hurt her and us more. I wet my lips, swallowing my pride before I could try to force an answer out of my mouth.

"No, April, I could never hate you," I answered honestly.

She looked at me with emotions twinkling in her beautiful hazel eyes and nodded her head, giving a little sniffle before leaning into me. I wrapped my arms around her and shut my eyes, not wanting my own emotions to get the best of me right now. For now, I needed to be strong for her.

"Thank you," she murmured softly and I could feel as she took a deep breath. "Can we just spend the rest of today and tomorrow pretending that it's completely normal and there's nothing weird going on?"

"Yeah, we can try and do that." Try being the operative word.

Setting aside the positive pregnancy test and changing into the swimsuits that we had packed, we had down to the pool together, hoping the fresh air and sunshine would serve as a distraction. I slather her in sunscreen carefully, knowing how easily she burned in the Texas sun and not wanting to ruin things on our honeymoon due to a bad sunburn.

The warm sun felt good on my skin and we both spend a little time in the hot tub, sipping on Dr. Pepper. Normally it would have been the ideal opportunity for a midday margarita, but it was better not to.

April, as much as I absolutely loved her, even managed to convince me to go to the hotel spa with her for a couples pedicure. I'm pretty sure that there was no one else in the world who would have been capable of doing that. It's actually not that bad, for the most part. All of it felt pretty nice. But I would have dropped dead before I allowed anyone else that I knew to see me actually getting a manicure with my wife. There were way too many whipped comments that would have come from all of the guys.

My feet are normally pretty calloused though, my heels especially, so I'm sure that April would appreciate the extra dose of softness on them when it came to cuddling in bed together tonight.

The day comes and goes, as does the night. I waited for April to bring it up and she didn't, but I don't want to push – instead, we fall into bed together and make love until we're both spent completely. To my relief, there's no blood staining the sheets when we wake up the next day. We packed up and checked out of the hotel, heading back to our house.

"Hey, buddy." I greeted Brody as he ran up to the door to greet the both of us as we came inside, jumping up on me a moment before giving April attention. She bent down to meet him and laughed as he excitedly licked her face to greet her.

"Hi pal," she said affectionately, giving his head a few pats and strokes. "I guess I'm officially your mom."

"Mmhm, Mrs. Avery." I take the opportunity to grab one of her hands and pull her in for another firm kiss, momentarily ignoring the dog as he circled around the two of us and continued to sniff. "What's mine is yours."

"Mrs. Dr. Avery," she corrected lightly. "I like how that sounds."

"Me too," I agreed.

We kiss again and I keep her pulled against me, twirling her around the living room to the rhythm of a song that perhaps only I could hear, yet she moved with me just as seamlessly regardless of the fact that there was no music playing. Between the two of us, we really didn't need it.

Not wanting to push her on the matter of the baby that was growing inside of her, I decided to give her a few more days before I bring it up again. I figure there are a few obvious rules in place, at least – I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it until the two of us figured out what we were actually going to do to handle it. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't be a problem. If I was able to talk to her about it and all of the excitement there, it should have been fine. But I needed to release some of it. Maybe I could try and be subtle about it.

Maybe. That was a pretty big bet.

I decided to give her to Wednesday. A few days to put it off and let the both of us think without one another influencing in either direction, but it wasn't something that could be put off forever, either.

Coincidentally, Wednesday was the same day that I caved with Derek.

"Hey, man, I've got a question for you," I asked midst looking over the details of our most recent case, leaned back in my desk chair and twirling one of my pens between two fingers.

"What's up?" Shepherd questioned.

"When you and Mer got pregnant, what did you guys do?" There's nothing subtle about my question, for better or for worse. It's not really a topic that can be danced around, and I knew that he happened to be a pretty good detective too. He'd figured it out if I bothered trying.

"Thinking about it, or did you already knock her up?"

I shook my head to lie. "Just thinking about it."

"Well, there's nothing better than it, I can tell you that. I love our bunch of rugrats. And you'd both be good parents, too, even if the paternity leave thing here sucks." Derek started. "I started planning right off the bat, though. The nursery, getting a better car for 'em, the whole nine yards."

All of those were things I had wanted to do, yet I'm worried about getting attached with the a-word lingering in my head since she had brought it up. I knew that I was incapable of hating her even if she went through it and I didn't agree with it. I was certain of that. But it would have been a crushing blow to get over. That was something that I was equally certain of. I gave a brief glance around, making sure she wasn't around.

"You should go for it, though. You'll be great at it." He encouraged. "We've got plenty of old supplies, too, if you end up needing any of it." He added with a slight nod.

"Thanks," I offered a nod of my head.

"And I'm happy to pass on the word to her if she needs a little nudging," Derek offered with a smile, tossing a rubber band ball back and forth between his hands.

"Oh, no," I chuckled and shook my head. "No, we've talked about it some, don't worry. She wants kids and a family too, but she's worried about the genes she's got, you know? After her father, the step-brother… I can't be mad at her for that."

Derek nodded his head in understanding. "Yeah, I get that. But I think y'all raising them matters a whole lot more than the rest of that." He threw in.

"I agree," I nodded. "I'm just working on getting her to believe that for herself."

We refocused ourselves on the case that we were working on and I tried to push it in the back of my head for as long as I could. I make it through the rest of my day, at least, without bringing it up to him or dipping downstairs to try and talk to her about personal matters rather than professional ones. It was clearly a gang-related matter and while we normally would consult with narcotics on the matter, the city had decided to dismantle the unit after apparently finding significant irregularities during a review. The new police chief had brought a lot of changes with her in the past few months, but this was the one that usually affected us.

By the end of the day, I'm aching to go home and talk about everything with her

I don't want to bombard her in the car and hold off for just a few minutes as we drive home, trying not to appear too anxious or eager about the matter. Whether or not I succeed about that, well, I'll never know.

We get home and take Brody for a long walk around the neighborhood and chat about the current case some before settling down for dinner. Spaghetti and garlic bread, nothing too fancy. I scarfed all of it down quickly and waited until we were both settled on the couch for the evening, me with a beer in hand, to brace the subject.

"Can we talk for a moment?" I braced, an arm wrapped around her with my hand resting on her shoulder.

"I was wondering when you were finally going to ask," April murmured, leaning into me.

"And here I had been waiting for you to bring it up." I think she knew that, though, even if maybe didn't want to say it quite so directly and admit that she had been avoiding talking about it. I wouldn't blame her. It was a big and hard decision, one that would change both of our lives permanently regardless of which direction she took it in.

She didn't say anything immediately, though, which made me hesitate. But I had to know.

"So what do you think about it?" I asked.

"I think that I want to keep the baby," April announced, turning to look at me.

At the words, I let out a breath of relief that I had been holding onto. I had been hoping that she would say that, of course, but it was much better to hear her actually say it with a little sense of confidence behind her words. I examined her face for a moment, looking for a little more there. I could finally dive into all of the hopes and dreams that I had been trying to push down and aside in case things didn't go the way that I had been planning.

"I'm really glad that you said that," I smiled at her for a moment before leaning forward and placing a kiss on her lips, nipping at the bottom for a moment before a full-blown smile could finally blast across my cheeks.

"I thought that would be." April murmured, giving me another quick kiss.

Lifting up my hand, I tucked a little hair behind her ear. "What made you decide?" I asked.

"You." She answered simply. "I've been so scared for confidence and you just… finally gave me the confidence to be willing to go through with this. Maybe genetics aren't everything." She chewed at her lower lip, both shoulders lifting and falling in a quick shrug.

"They aren't," I agreed with an airy chuckle passing through my lips. "We're going to have an amazing baby, April, I promise. They're going to be just as sweet and kind as you. Just as beautiful, too. I promise."

"We've got a few months for me to really get on board with everything that you're saying," April admitted. "But that's okay. Because I want to believe and I want to put in the work to believe you, too. I love you. I want to make you happy. I know that you said you'd accept my decision but I think that this is the best decision for the both of us."

A smile filled my lips again and I wrapped my other arm around her to pull her into a hug, breathing her into my frame. There was no doubt in my mind just how much I loved this woman and everything about her. Even her own doubts and insecurities, I was willing to be there and help her work through them. I couldn't have been more appreciative of the fact that she wanted to put in the work just as much as I did.

"I love you so much, baby." I reminded her.

"I know. And I love you too. I'm gonna love this baby too. 'Cause even if it's half me and maybe there's a bad chance there, it's also going to be half you. That's too important to me." April said into the skin of my neck, placing a little kiss there.

"Are you going to schedule an appointment with a doctor? I want a picture of the little one." I asked, pulling away and placing my hand on her stomach. It's completely flat and easy to cover right now, but that would change. I couldn't wait.

"Yeah. Yeah, I will."


	18. Chapter 18

**_ APRIL _ **

Being pregnant was simultaneously the best and worst thing to happen to me.

Talk about the miracle of life got thrown at me in every direction that I went. People were always trying to touch my belly once it began to peak out from my clothing when the only person I wanted to be touching it was Jackson. He, of course, got in his fair share of cradling it and kissing it, speaking to the baby inside. But nothing seemed capable of sating my nerves when it came to complete strangers thinking it was suddenly fine to touch me.

Even though no one else in the world seemed to recognize it, I had made myself and my baby belly pretty much off limits to anyone other than Jackson or Dr. Montgomery. No one else had any business messing around with it.

"How are you and little Annabeth feeling?" Jackson asked, his hand finding my belly.

Almost instantly, well attuned to the sound of her father's voice, our daughter moved around inside me and gave a little kick. She was strong enough to be felt from the outside now that I was about six months along, something that everyone seemed to be hunting after the moment that they got their grubby little hands on my belly.

Annabeth Faith Avery had been the name that we decided on for our daughter. The first name had been Jackson's suggestion and something about it had just stuck with me. Faith, however, had been my own. Despite all of the hesitations that I had at the beginning about a baby of my own, one that was half of my gene pool and all of the bad luck that seemed to be associated with that, my own faith in myself and maybe even the good of the universe had been restored. Through Jackson, through her. For the first time in perhaps my entire life, I was able to believe in myself without constantly hunting down different what-if scenarios.

"We're doing good," I smiled at my husband. "Just a little tired."

"Do you want me to rub your feet?" He suggested. He had been extremely attentive in the past few months, constantly at my beck and call regardless of whether or not I needed it. I loved it, a little bit, but it also drove me crazy. I'd never liked being babied.

"No, baby, we're at work." I reminded him with a small laugh parting my lips.

"We're in a mostly empty morgue." Jackson shrugged his shoulders, placing his hand on my stomach. "I don't think that any of the dead bodies down here are going to care about me rubbing your feet."

"They may not, but I do," I remarked with a shake of my head. "I'm trying to keep things professional down here, remember? And it's hard enough when I've got the nose of a bloodhound. All of the gross smells didn't bug me before, but now they drive me crazy. I constantly feel like I'm about to barf." But I still had to get the job done. I wasn't going to let anything get in the way.

Another little kick was given inside of me, and we both smiled. I couldn't help it. It was perfectly normal and yet it was one of the best parts, something that made it so real. This was a normal and healthy baby.

Of course, plenty of research had been done on my end to make sure of that, besides the amnio that we'd had done a month ago which confirmed that there were no genetic abnormalities and it was a girl. I'd been working to be as healthy as possible, avoiding the flu and other germs at all costs. I'd read up on all of the mice studies, defamiliarized myself with the importance of 5-HT receptors and signaling for normal fetal brain and forebrain development. Some study results suggest maternal inflammation increases the amount of serotonin in the placenta and the fetal brain, impairing the growth of serotonin nerve cells. Those serotonin-producing cells could lead to plenty of complications down the line. I was doing everything I could to stay healthy.

"I do know that," Jackson nodded. "The day's almost done, at least. We'll be able to go home soon."

"Knock on wood," I replied. "You might have just jinxed the both of us."

"Not trying to," he leaned forward after speaking and placed a quick peck on my lips. "Do you still want to go to Target after work and look at some of the pregnancy pillows like my mom recommended?" He asked.

"Uh-huh," I nodded. "Otherwise I may never sleep again."

Fortunately, work does hold out for the both of us and we get to leave at a decent hour. Catherine had surprisingly come around even more with the pregnancy, no doubt because she knew how much Jackson wanted to be a father and how great of a father he would be. She had stood up for me at the wedding, and she'd kept by my side. I hadn't really expected her to do both. Another reason for me to have a little more faith in the world.

Target happened to be one of my favorite places in the world. Always had been, maybe always would be. Things were priced appropriately and they had everything that you could ever need.

We get the pillow, which was very much needed. As well as another baby blanket, because as far as I was concerned, there was no such thing as having too many of them.

I wrapped myself around the new pillow, Jackson wrapped himself around me, and Brody was placed like a foot warmer at the end of the bed. He'd become a little more protective of me since I began showing. I wasn't sure how he knew exactly what was going on, but with the way that he acted around me, he most definitely knew.

"How does it feel?" Jackson asked, drawing patterns against my stomach.

"Good. Better than before," I answered.

"Good. I'm glad you're comfortable," he murmured and pressed a kiss against the back of my shoulder. "We want Mommy to be comfortable."

"I don't know if both of you do. Otherwise one of you might stop acting like my bladder's a punching bag." Peeing every hour, very nearly on the hour, hadn't taken long to both exhausting and annoying.

Jackson chuckled, his breath warm on my ear. "Dunno if there's much I can do about that."

"Probably not," I agreed with a sleepy nod of my head.

Sleeping was drastically easier with the pillow there, perhaps one piece of advice that may have been unsolicited but ended up being welcome. It turned out that unsolicited advice came from everyone, pretty much. When it was friends or family, it wasn't so bad. But random strangers in the checkout line of the grocery store trying to talk to me about possible stretch marks on my breasts were really, really pushing their luck and my temper.

Time was flying by, day after day and night after night. It was good and bad. Every day my clothes seemed a little tighter and my feet disappeared a little more, even though they were certainly growing as well given the tightness of my shoes and how swollen my ankles were by the end of the day.

Ultrasounds were a high point of excitement for the both of us. Even if feeling little Annabeth moving around inside of me made things real, being able to see her with my own two eyes was even better. It was nice that I was able to really be able to read the ultrasounds without too much struggle. I'd like all things baby related during medical school and taken a professional interest, even if it had been lower on the totem pole than what I currently did. I still remembered some of it. I know that Jackson enjoyed it just as much too, even if he didn't have the same understanding of reading the scans.

Medical expertise doesn't really seem to matter once Dr. Montgomery pulled up the image.

"And there's your little girl." She cooed, pointing at the monitor.

"Hi, baby girl." Jackson grinned, leaning forward and clutching onto one of my hands and lifting it up to kiss the back of my knuckles one by one. "Hi there."

"How is she looking?" I asked eagerly, eyeing the screen for a moment and then the other redhead.

"Very healthy and growing right on track, April," Addison answered, turning the monitor over slightly more so that Jackson and I could see it a little better. "All ten fingers and toes. I'm guessing that's Jackson's nose there. Looking at this and you two, she'll be a real looker."

My eyebrows raised up and I beamed. "That's so great." I nodded, chewing on my lower lip to contain my relief and excitement. "And we're still looking on track for the due date?"

"Yes," she nodded. "We'll be delivering this beautiful baby girl in another two months."

"That's great," I grinned, placing my empty hand high on my stomach.

"Is there anything that I can be doing to help her?" Jackson asked eagerly, gaze flickering between us.

"Whatever she tells you to do," Dr. Montgomery answered amicably with a grin.

"Well, he's been pretty good at doing that," I commented, turning my head toward him. He smiled at me and leaned down to give me a soft kiss on the lips, keeping it short and sweet.

Jackson has to help me get up from the table one the gel had been wiped off my stomach and the new ultrasound picture had been picked up. I was getting a little slower no matter how I wanted to deny it. I was glad that much of my work could be done sitting on a stool, letting some of the techs do the physical running around me.

Even if the pregnancy was taking a huge toll on my body, it seemed to be taking a pretty big one on Jackson as well. Not in the same physical sense, even if I had noticed he'd put on just a little bit of weight, though not more than a few pounds. I liked him a little softer around the middle, especially now that he was letting his curls grow out a little more than usual. It made him just a little softer on the outside, more reflective of his inside, as far as I was concerned. He might have been a tough cop and great homicide detective, but he was still my man, and he was a big softie for me and our baby.

Nesting had hit him just as hard as it had hit me, though, if not harder. I had gotten a little picky about the exact placement of items here and there, the decor on the walls, and driven both of us crazy. It was relatively harmless but still pretty annoying.

On the other hand, Jackson had started to go crazy over baby clothes and the likes. I liked to pick them out, but he was the one who insisted on washing them and obsessively making sure we had a good and safe detergent. The drawers were organized according to his own system. I'd peaked through them here and there, but otherwise, tried to stay out of his way. That was his thing and I would let him have it.

"Alright, I did something and I'm not quite sure how you're gonna react to it," he started.

"Okay?" I prompted him to continue, raising my eyebrows.

"I've kind of been working on this…" As he spoke, Jackson pulled out a knitted baby blanket. It was a dark purple color. "My mom suggested the color. Purple being royalty, and all," he explained.

"Oh, Jackson," I started immediately, pushing myself to my feet though I had been comfortable on the couch. "Jackson," I repeated his name emotionally, placing my hands on it and looking up at him. "This is so sweet. It's perfect, baby. I didn't even realize you knew how to knit. I love it. And I'm sure that Annabeth will, too." I held it with one hand, the other wrapping around him in a hug.

Muscular arms wrapped around me, absorbing me into his frame as best the baby bump between us would allow. "I'm glad that you like it," he murmured. "And I hope that she will too."

Rare cases like this, Jackson's emotions got the best of him and I could see it in the slight glimmer of his seafood eyes when I pulled away from the embrace. But his smile was proud, of what he had been able to make. I could see that much clearly. It only made me love the simple blanket all the more. I placed it on my belly, smiling at him.

"It's going to be perfect."

My due date comes, and it goes.

It was a Saturday which meant that neither of us had to worry about taking off work. I had decided to work until I had the baby and make sure that all of the time taken off was on the other side of things. We had been able to finish up the nursery and get it just the way that both of us wanted. Catherine was constantly over for dinner and other occasions without excuse, offering advice, teasing about considering naming it after her. Things were coming together.

But little Annabeth seemed content with staying inside of my stomach. The Saturday she was supposed to come is spent restlessly, time spent on the couch feeling huge, taking Brody on a walk around the neighbor in hopes that would kickstart labor.

Sunday, I get hit with a contraction. Just one. Even though it did hurt, there was a look of excitement on Jackson's face when I told him that I felt it – and I watched as it faded away when minutes passed, and nothing else came. It must have been a Braxton Hicks. Even though I knew it was going to be probably the most physical pain I had ever been through, I was anxious for it to start.

"Maybe we should try something else." Jackson murmured, brows drawn together.

"Don't you dare let go of me." I was mostly balanced on an exercise ball, but I wasn't so sure that was going to stay the situation if he released my forearms.

"It just doesn't seem like this is working." He bit his lower lip.

"I know. I know it's not. But we have spicy food last night. I've been drinking raspberry tea like crazy and now I kind of hate how it tastes." I didn't want to get grumpy. I really, really didn't want to. That was only going to make things worse to come with labor. But now that I was five days past my due date and Dr. Montgomery wasn't worried about inducing yet, I was starting to lose it.

"I know that you already said no, but–" He started.

"No!" I barked.

It's not my intention to snap but it happened anyway, and I take a slow and deep breath through my nose, trying to reign it back in and under control again. Getting pissed at him wouldn't change the fact that my body seems to just be stuck like this.

"I'm sorry," I breathed out the apology. "I love you. I do. And we have great sex. Amazing sex. But I do not want to have sex when I feel like a whale. I don't care if it's supposed to help."

"Okay," Jackson nodded his head compliantly. "That's fine, it is. I just wanted to throw it out there in case you changed your mind. I know that you're uncomfortable like this."

An understatement, of course.

"Help me off this thing." I requested. He tightened his grip on my forearms and I slowly got off of it, letting out a sigh. "I'm going to call Dr. Montgomery again and see about inducing."

Fortunately, Dr. Montgomery does schedule to induce me the following Monday. A few more days. It's all I had to make it through. A few more days of being huge and bloated in absolutely every way possible, of not being able to see my feet or get my shoes on by myself. A few more days of hopefully getting a normal amount of sleep before new life was welcomed into our little world. I could make it that far.

"It's a few more days, baby. You can do it." Jackson's hand rubbed small circles on my back.

"Much easier said than done," I reminded him, pushing pasta around my dinner place. "My stomach looks so huge. And yet my actual stomach, the organ, is so small. I can barely eat more than a few bites anymore."

"A few more days," he repeated. "Then we'll have precious Annabeth. Our little girl."

Our little girl would be here in a few days, one way or another, I knew that for sure. She was big and healthy, even if she had decided to stay inside for a few extra days.

The kicking on my stomach and punching on my bladder kept me up during the night. Sure, Jackson and the pillow helped to relax me and make it slightly more comfortable for me to fall asleep, but Annabeth had apparently already decided to make do with a bit of a nocturnal sleeping pattern. Getting used to a lack of sleep was something I'd just have to get used to.

Even when I'm uncomfortable, I can't toss and turn like I normally would. Moving from one side to the other is a lot of effort that's hard to put forth when I'm tired, and usually wakes up both Jackson and Brody from their individual slumbers.

A leg cramp wakes me up on Monday morning, just shy of four in the morning. I'm supposed to get at least a few more hours of sleep to try and be well-rested for when I'm induced the next day, but it seems like my body is against that happening in one way or another. I look at Jackson, hearing his even breathing. I barely move, only to realize that it's wet between my legs. Dammit. I'd peed myself.

Sighing loudly, I lifted up one leg to push the pillow away from my body and onto the floor. I hate to wake Jackson up for any reason, but this was a pretty good one.

"Jackson, baby," I murmured gently, giving his shoulder a little push.

"Huh?" He grumbled, still partially asleep.

"Wake up. We gotta change the sheets." I'm not about to say out loud what I had accidentally done.

He doesn't offer me a verbal response just get, leaning over toward the nightstand to turn on the lamp. I can hear his back pop as he does so – and gosh, I wish I could do the same with my own right now. But I can barely twist in either direction with all the belly I had now.

"Sweetheart, did your water break?" Jackson asked.

"No. I peed myself because this baby is everywhere and I cannot wait to be induced." I grumbled.

"Are you sure? It looks like water." He pointed at the stain that I had left on the sheets.

"I know it's called water but it's actually amniotic fluid, not water." I groaned as I pushed myself out of the bed slowly, picking up the sheet. But because of his words, I lift up the sheet just enough to sniff at it. It's not pee.

Oh.

Crap.

"Okay, you might be right." I took a deep breath, dropping the sheet. "My water broke."

"It's time to get to the hospital." Jackson was up and out of bed as he spoke, grabbing the hospital bag that we'd kept out on the dresser just in case Annabeth decided to come before being induced. I'd given up hope on that when I had gone to bed last night – only a few hours ago. It was almost like she'd waited for me to do that.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered in agreement, giving a slight nod of my head. "Just let me change. I don't even have contractions yet and I don't want to wear wet, sticky clothes to the hospital or get your car seats all gross."

Groaning slightly, I stripped out of my pajamas and underwear to grab a clean pair and go the bathroom. I get dressed as quickly as I can between my belly and exhaustion slowing my every movement. The bathroom light seems a little glaring and the exhaustion is clear on my features already. Not exactly the start I'd been hoping to get off to today, but it didn't seem like I was going to get any choice in the matter. Oh well.

"Oh, mother–" I swore loudly when a contraction suddenly gripped my stomach. It felt like a period cramp, but quite a bit stronger than most I had to deal with, like the worst day of a cycle. I guess I really was in labor after all.

"April, are you okay?" Jackson appeared quickly, eyes wide as he looked at me.

"Yeah," I let out a shaky breath. "I guess that's my first real labor contraction."

His hand wrapped around my arm. "That's alright. We'll get you to the hospital, get out that epidural, and you're going to be good to go. Let's get you into the car now, alright?"

"Alright," I muttered, sucking in a deep breath through my nose. I grabbed my phone quickly and let him guide me out to the car, not making any more of a fuss.

The roads are practically empty as we made our way to the hospital, and I let Jackson do all of the work to get me checked in and into a room. Sitting back is especially easy when another contraction took a hold of me and left me all but frozen in place. It was likely to be a few hours before anything actually happened, and I felt a little bad for probably waking up Dr. Montgomery at such an unreasonable hour of the day.

Once we were both settled in the room, I pulled up Spotify on my phone and put on the long birth playlist that the two of us had put together. It was a combination of some our favorite songs, and a few calming ones as well. Both to try and keep our spirits up through the hard parts.

"You can do this, babe." Jackson hadn't been able to sit still since we had gotten here, unsurprisingly.

"I know," I nodded unsteadily. "I know. I can. I'm just gonna swear a lot. Our baby girl is gonna enter the world and the first thing she'll really hear is her mom swearing up a storm."

"She's already heard both of our voices," he reminded me. "She's already heard you swear."

"Shut up," I grumbled. "I don't cuss that much."

"Only when you're cranky." He squeezed my shoulder. "Which you have been a lot of lately."

I stared at me. "Can you blame me?"

"Not at all," Jackson answered quickly.

Pain was good at slowing down time, as far as I could tell. The contractions absolutely stretched all of it out and distorted my ability to tell it, seconds feeling like minutes and minutes feel like hours. Jackson's support was nice and I loved him, but also driving me crazy, just a little bit. I wanted to scream and groan and curse like a sailor, but he was managing to keep calm and rational, offering me every supportive phrase and line from every parenting and pregnancy book in existence.

"You're doing so good, baby. So, so good. Annabeth is going to be strong like you." He praised me.

"You're a little over halfway there, April. It shouldn't be too much longer." One of Dr. Montgomery's residents let me know with a gentle smile, only offering slight reassurance.

The little bit of relief that gave me only happened to last for the time between being told, and the next interaction rolling through to destroy me. We try the big exercise ball again and walking a few laps around the hallway, Jackson rubs my back. I can't stay still for particularly long with all of it. Moving around was a distraction more than anything else, but I could try to pretend that it helped. Not long after that, I get the epidural.

Things look up substantially after that – I actually nap for a few minutes, with Jackson curled up behind me, waiting for labor to get further along. Even if it was only a local pain management system, it made it easier to tune out of everything else going on. The other screaming mothers in labor, the fuzziness. Contractions felt more like I was being pumped up with gas than pain.

When Dr. Montgomery finally joined us, I lit up with joy. Finally.

"Are you ready to start pushing, April?"

"Yes, please."

Pushing goes on longer than I expected. It's nothing like the movies presented, instead, it's much more like all of the horror stories that I had read on parenting and maternal boards. It sucks and it sucks more.

Screaming and swearing, I push and bare down like I never have before. I'd been through a lot of hard things here and there, sure, but there's nothing that even came close to pushing a big baby's head through a hole way too small. It's harder than expected when I can't exactly feel everything that was going on, either. I knew it was better than feeling like my vagina was on fire, but it was a little off-putting to be able to do all of that and not exactly feel it.

The sound of a cry that isn't my own is the first thing to bring some sense of relief. I relaxed finally, collapsing back against the pillows stacked up and fluffed behind me. My eyes focus on the ceiling, hearing everyone with their congratulations and other flattering words. I had a baby. We had a baby. We were parents.

"You've got one beautiful daughter," Dr. Montgomery complimented.

"She's so perfect, April." Jackson looked at me, eyes glistening with tears. "She looks just like you. She's so beautiful. God, she is so, so beautiful, baby. Just like her mommy."

"Let me see her." I requested, exhausted.

Cleaned and wrapped up in blankets snuggly, one of the nurses brought our daughter over to me and placed her gently down in my arms, Jackson on her heels to continue staring at her.

Big, sleepy eyes stared up at me. She's only a few inches away from my face and I knew that meant she was able to see me clearly. She looked like the both of us, not just me, but she was absolutely beautiful. She had Jackson's lips and his beautiful light eyes, slightly more blue than his own, not the same confusion with green. Especially this close. Her skin was a little darker than my own, and she was beautiful in absolutely every way possible.

"Hi there," I whispered, emotion cracking my voice. "Hi, Annabeth. I'm your Mommy."

"And I'm your Daddy." Jackson settled onto the bed next to me, his arm around my shoulders.

"You're perfect, Annabeth. And we love you so much."

After all of the insecurities and doubt that I'd had, able to get past most of it as I carried through the pregnancy, nothing compared to the absolute peace and serenity that I felt as I cradled our newborn daughter in my arms. I was still loopy and a little off feeling from the epidural given that it hadn't worn off, but it didn't matter. This was perfect. She was perfect. She was worth getting past every fear and doubt that I had ingrained in my mind over the years of doubt and self-hate. Jackson was just as worth it as well. But she was the culmination of our love and our relationship, she showed it to me and proved the good that the universe had put in my life. She was a blessing.

Labor had taken hours and I didn't realize that it was already midday until Jackson took a breath glance at his phone, letting me know that his mother was here already and that Derek and Meredith were already on the way. I'd forgotten other people would want to see the baby too.

I let him go to greet them, knowing there's no way that I was getting out of the bed. I could barely feel the soreness everywhere after labor. I was in no condition to be walking around yet.

"Oh, there are my girls!" Catherine cooed as she entered the room. "Look at her, she's perfect."

"Hi, Catherine," I greeted her with a tired smile.

"May I?" She asked.

"Of course," I nodded. She came toward me and I lifted up my arms slightly as Catherine picked up our daughter, immediately beginning to coo over her grandchild. Leaning back into the care, a smile softened my tired features. I knew that she had been a great mother to Jackson, and I had no doubt that she would be a wonderful grandmother, too. I hoped that I would live up to her expectations as a parent, and Jackson's.

Idle conversation is made and I was too tired to see up with most of it. The epidural was beginning to wear off, fortunately, but the exhaustion was still there.

By the time that Catherine had gone left, abiding with Jackson's request to go let out Brody and make sure that he had enough food and water, more company had already made its way to us. Derek and Meredith, of course, were next on the list of visitors. I knew that they would be here for me and Jackson, no matter the time of day.

"You did one hell of a job, you too." Derek's voice was boisterous as he clapped Jackson on the back, grabbing his hand before pulling him into a brief embrace.

"Thanks, man," Jackson grinned. "But April did all of the work." I let out a tired laugh.

"How are you feeling?" Meredith asked.

"I'm okay," I answered. "Just exhausted."

"Well, that's something that the two of you are going to have to get used to." Derek laughed. "You're not due for sleep any time soon. Trust me. With Bailey, the two of us just about lost our minds."

Meredith elbowed him lightly. "She just gave birth. Give them a break, Derek."

"It's alright. I've got a pretty good idea of what we signed up for after hearing you bitch for eight months." Jackson tossed the teasing words right back at Derek without missing a beat.

"I'm very tired right now," I complained. "Can I have five more minutes of pretending that I'm not about to spend the next few years of my life being this tired?"

All three of them laughed. "Sure thing, honey," Jackson complied, leaning down to kiss me.

"You are very, very lucky." Meredith reminded me, placing her hand on top of mine.

"I know I am." I smiled as I looked up at Jackson.

Holding onto Annabeth with one arm as her nine pounds and three ounces rested on top of my chest, my free hand reached for my husband's. Our fingers interlocked with one another's and he gave me a gentle squeeze, and I smiled up at him. For a moment, it was just the three of us in the room, embracing the new family and the new love between us. I knew that I loved him with my whole heart, but now, it felt like my whole heart had been doubled in size. He had done that, and she had done that. He leaned down once again, this time placing a soft kiss on our daughter's forehead.

"I promise, I'll do everything to keep you safe," Jackson whispered.


	19. Chapter 19

**_ JACKSON _ **

The cold water of Lake Grapevine splashed against my legs, and higher on my body as Brody ran excitedly along by the shore. He circled around me, April, and Annabeth tail wagging and sending up water toward our faces. My daughter laughed in delight.

"Are you almost done, babe?" April questioned me.

"Yeah, just about," I replied.

We no longer had the small, barely two-person kayak that we had once taken one of our first dates on. We had sold it to a friend a few months after Annabeth was born. On my first Father's Day, we had gone shopping for a new one. The boat was still small but secure enough for the three of us and Brody to be able to go out on the lake, more steady than the kayak had been. The steadiness had been a winner for getting our little girl on board, as far as April was concerned. The rest of it was up to me. It was one of my favorite ways to spend a summer weekend, out on the water with my family. April's collection of freckles had no doubt multiple because of it.

Annabeth was now just shy of two years old. She looked just like me and all of my baby pictures, the same curly hair, and bright blue eyes. I knew April was happy about it. The only exception as far as I was concerned was the smile. That was all hers.

"Alright, we're good to go. Let me just go park the truck." I had gotten the boat separated from the truck and slightly into the water. It wouldn't float away as long as one of us kept a hand on it.

"I'll do it," April volunteered. "I think someone needs a little diaper change, don't they?"

"Sure," I reached into my pocket, stepping over and handing her the keys to the truck so that she could take care of business. We'd barely broached potty training with our daughter, but at least we were starting to get to that age. I figured April was tired of diapers. I certainly was.

Brody hopped into the boat, shaking off the wetness from his fur after doing so. He already had the routine down to pat, even as he was starting to get just a little bit older. Ten wasn't that bad, he was still plenty active, particularly around my little girl. He loved Annabeth. He'd gotten weirdly protective of April when she was pregnant and started to show, and that had transferred onto our little girl when we brought her home from the hospital.

April returned only a couple of minutes later, handing Beth over to me. I grabbed the little lifejacket I had for her, getting her arms through it as April climbed over into the boat. She didn't like it much, even though we'd explained it to her many times.

"Swimming lessons are in the future for you, aren't they? You hate this thing." I commented with a small chuckle, handing her back over to April.

With my family in the boat, I pushed them out into the water until I was about waist deep and the boat would be able to get a little more momentum of its own. It rocked side to side for a moment after I hopped in it, stabilizing shortly. I grabbed one of the paddles to get us a little further away from the shoreline.

"Fishy fish." Annabeth pointed at the water, squirming in April's lap.

"Yeah, we're gonna catch some fish today, aren't we?" I had my rod and bait all set up. I always caught and released again – most of the fish here weren't that big, anyway, but I liked to give her a look at whatever I caught. She seemed to enjoy it. More than her mother did, at least. "Maybe we should catch some dinner, too." I teased my wife, leaning toward her to press a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Mm, no thank you," she shook her head. "Will you pass me the sunscreen, babe? I think she needs a little more on her." Always with the sunscreen.

"Uh huh," I answered, grabbing the bottle.

I opened it up, squirting some in my hand before passing it over to April. I moved her hair in front of her shoulders, rubbing my hands together to spread out the cream before beginning to rub it onto her shoulders. I knew she had put some on both of them before they left the house, but often she ended up with burned shoulders anyways.

Once all of it was out of the way, I grabbed my pole and bait, setting up the line before seating myself near the back of the boat and casting it. We would float around for a little while, until Annabeth got too bored, usually.

"You never told me how your interrogation went," April commented, adjusting Beth's hat.

"What?" I muttered out, leaning back in my chair to watch the line.

"Your interrogation. With the guy who killed his boss?" She elaborated. I could see from my peripheral that she had turned herself slightly to glance back at me while feeding Annabeth some apple slices.

Work was going well. Derek had gotten injured on the job about a year ago, hurt his hand and gotten some permanent damage to the wrist there, and been in and out since with desk duty. In his place, I had gotten a new partner – Ben, a guy who had previously been on vice before it dismantled, gone to robbery for awhile, and worked his way up to homicide. He was a good guy, had a good wife and family. We all got along with them well and now I was no longer considered a rookie. That was a nice bonus.

"Pissed about not getting a promotion," I remarked with a shake of my head. "Typical shit."

"Daddy say bad word!" Annabeth yelled.

"Yes, yes Daddy did. Daddy is a bad boy." April commented with a shake of her head, sending me a glare that I knew she didn't mean. I winked back at her.

"Daddy is bad," I agreed. "Should Mommy punish Daddy, Annabeth?"

"Yes!" She screamed out, laughter quickly following. She was always laughing, no matter what the circumstances were, full of happiness in a way not even I could have predicted. There was no darkness to be found in our little girl.

The wink is returned by my wife, and I lean back in my chair once more to continue fishing.

Eventually, there was a pull on the line. I sit up straighter, glancing at both of my girls for a brief moment before I begin to crank it in. It gave a bit of a fight but there wasn't much that a fish could really do once it had gotten hooked other than perhaps hoping that whoever was catching it would be kind enough to release it back in instead of making dinner out of it. A few seconds of rolling it back in passed before the fish is jumping out of the water and making a scene. April points it out to Annabeth, who immediately begins to yell about it.

The fish was a spotted bass, about a foot and a half long. It squirmed and resisted as I pulled it into the boat, flopping against the bottom. Beth was practically jumping out of April's lap so that she could get a look at it, but my wife held onto her until I could get the hook out of the fish's mouth, making sure that there was no chance of her getting hurt.

Brody, fortunately, was used enough to this that he doesn't go wild. He was laying on the other side of April, rather calm for the moment, though he did lift up his head so that he could see what all was going on.

"C'mere," I waved her over. Once I did, April let go and Annabeth bounded to my side.

"Fishy fish! Daddy! Fish!" She enthused.

"Yeah, baby. It's a fish. It's called a spotted bass. Do you see the spots?" I pointed out the darker mottling across the top portion of the fix. Annabeth reached out, experimentally poking the scales and giggling. The fish flopped aggressively in my hand. "Alright, we're gonna throw it back. You ready?"

"Yeah, yeah," she bobbed her head along as she spoke.

I get a good hold on the fish before tossing it back out onto the water. It flops at the surface for a moment before returning down to its home down under. I don't mind eating fish, but all of mine comes from the store or a restaurant. Fishing might have been a nice way to relax, but I'm not about descaling and everything else. April was better with that kind of stuff than I was – except she practiced it professionally with humans.

"Do you want to try and catch another one?" I asked her, adjusting her hat slightly so it wasn't in her eyes quite as much, pulling her up onto one of my knees.

"Yes pwease," Annabeth said. I kissed her on top of the head.

"What about Mommy? Do you think that Mommy should try and catch a fish for you?"

"Yes!" She shouted.

April didn't mind fishing even if she wasn't a big fan of fish – I don't know if she truly liked it or if it was just something that she had picked up over the time that we had been together and married, choosing to participate because she knew that it was something I enjoyed. It was a relaxing hobby, a chance for both of us to get away from the demands that our work required out of us. Neither of us had an easy job. There was constant stress and parenting wasn't easy, either. But moments like this reminded me exactly why all of it was worth it. I had a steady job, a steady income, and time to be with the two girls that I loved more than anything else in the universe.

I set up the bait before extending the fishing pole out toward her with a smile, and she took it with a little grin of her own although she shook her head. I watched as she cast the line – she'd definitely gotten better at that over the years, too.

With novelty interest, Annabeth watched as her mother waited on something to tug on the line. I push us around the lake gently, knowing that my daughter's volume probably scared off some of the fish around, but I didn't mind. Even if I had first started coming out here as an act of solitude, it was better to be out here with my family. Much better.

No fish ends up taking the line and it doesn't take our daughter long to get particularly bored with sitting and watching. She pushed off my lap and walked back over to her mother, wrapping herself around one of April's leg and resting her head against her knee.

"Are you tired, sweetheart?" April asked her, placing a hand on her back.

"Yeah," she muttered. I watch as April picked her up, hugging her against her chest firmly.

Despite the fear that she had been riddled with at the beginning of her pregnancy, April had turned out to be the most amazing mother. I had been lucky enough to have one growing up, and I knew that she hadn't, but she had ended up taking all of the fear and discomfort that she felt and turning it into something pure and beautiful. The way that she connected with our daughter was easy. Looking at her now, I knew that no one would have ever guessed that she hadn't been committed to the pregnancy from the beginning. It seemed like this was something that she had wanted from her whole life with how good she was at it. She had ended up an absolute natural.

"Why don't we head on back?" April suggested, looking over at me for approval.

"Sure thing," I nodded my head, grabbing the paddle to begin to turn us back around and toward the shore. We hadn't gone too far out to begin with. Any time that I had Annabeth on board with me, I always took a few extra precautions.

It doesn't take long for the two of us to get back to the shore and I hop out to drag the boat a little closer. April handed our daughter over to me so that she could get out and Brody jumped out to follow all of us. I handed Annabeth back over so I could go get the truck and hitch the boat back onto it.

"Your nose is a little red, babe," I commented, lightly tapping it so that it doesn't hurt.

"It always is," she shrugged off.

Heading back to the truck, I back up close to the boat so that it wouldn't be too hard to get it hooked up. As I get out, April heads over, no doubt to get Annabeth back into her car seat. Getting it on requires a little hauling but I'm used to it and fortunately, there are wheels involved, which makes all of it easier. Once I'm done with that, I grab the towel so I can hopefully get Brody a little drier before he's in the truck too.

My own self is next, knowing I'll be sitting on a towel driving back to try and keep up the quality of my truck seats. It'd still a nice one, after two years, and I was trying to keep it that way. April's car had become the messy one – that was where Annabeth was usually fussing in the back seat of.

"You know, I've been thinking…" April started to speak once we had pulled out of the winding roads around the lake, her hand reaching over to intertwine her fingers with mine.

"You're always doing that," I commented with a smirk, glancing over at her.

"Yeah, but I've been really thinking." She countered with a shake of her head.

"What about?" I asked.

"I think that I want to have another baby together," April stated calmly.

If I hadn't been behind the wheel with our daughter in the backseat, I would have dropped just about everything I was doing to hold her and kiss her hard with the particular words that left her lips. I knew that she had accepted Annabeth, welcomed her and loved her with open arms. Yet I hadn't thought I would ever hear those words come from her mouth.

"Really?" I asked for confirmation, squeezing her hand a little tighter.

"Yeah. I think that I'm ready for another one of her." A fond smile filled her lips as she glanced back at our daughter, preoccupied with a stuffed horse.

"I'm ready for another one of you." Taking advantage of the fact that we were momentarily stopped at a red light, I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss against her cheek. I couldn't hold back a smile. Even if I had been an only child, that wasn't what I wanted for Annabeth. I wanted a house of kids, a house of laughter, of happiness. I never wanted her to feel lonely growing up. Siblings didn't necessarily fix it, I knew that from April, but with the two of us raising them all, I thought we could do it.

"What do you think about it, Annabeth?" April was twisted to face her. "Do you want a little brother or sister?"

"Yeah!"

It doesn't happen on the first try, but a few months later the positive pregnancy test that we both actively sought after this time does come back to us. Much to our daughter's dismay, we find out a couple of months later that it's a little boy. Blue takes over the nursery in preparation for the new little boy to take over our lives.

When Everett Malcolm Avery does join our little family, it's a rare rainy day. Our family and friends all crowd in the waiting room and eventually April's room so that they can meet the newest addition to the Avery family, and our mother is overwhelmingly filled with joy and congratulations, happy to tell April all about how wonderful it was to raise a little boy. A few days later we get to take him home from the hospital and Annabeth seemed much more accepting about the prospect of a little brother by the time that he was actually home, after spending a few days with grandma.

Sleep deprivation comes and goes just like it had with Annabeth, although this time it was a little harder given that Everett waking up meant that it was just as likely our three year old was going to wake up and ask if she could sleep in the same bed as Mommy and Daddy. We break her of the habit after a few weeks. Or maybe she just realized that there was even less sleep likely to be had in our bedroom.

About two months after our son was born, we laid in bed together, grateful for at least a few minutes of quiet in the house. I'd just started back at work again which meant sleep for me was at an all-time low. April had another month of maternity leave left.

"I'm so lucky to have you as my wife," I murmured, rolling on my side to face her and propping my head up with one arm.

"Do you ever think about how crazy it is that we ended up together?" She asked, a hand coming up to her face so that she could rub some of the exhaustion away from her eyes.

I nodded my head. "Crazy didn't matter. You were too good to miss out on."

"You're stupidly sweet," April muttered with a shake of her head. I moved up to cuddle her, an arm wrapping around her waist and holding her again my chest.

"Only because I'm stupidly in love with you," I replied, kissing the top of her head.

"Good. Because I'll always be stupidly in love with you and our kiddos." She gave a little squirm as she adjusted against me. "I'm so glad I took a chance on you."

"I am too."

April fell asleep in my arms before I did. I could tell as her breathing evened out and she still against me. She hadn't always been such a still sleeper, always tossing and turning when we shared a bed together, but that had mellowed out over the years. She had mellowed out as she learned to accept herself. Both of us had changed, with our marriage and with parenting, but we had done so together and for the better. In a few opposite ways, even, but it had always strengthened who we were together and individually. We'd stumbled down our paths together.

Throughout all of the sanity, I had kept her safe physically. She had tried to keep me safe from the mess of her biological family.

Now, together, we would keep each other's heart safe.


End file.
